You are an incredible human being, Sherlock
by DeerMe
Summary: JohnlockTeen!lock. My first ever attempt. Sherlock and John meet through boarding school. The level of writing improves in every chapter, so please don't give up on chapter one! There is also a case. - Please read/review/share my fanfiction. Muchos Graçias. My lovely beta is... /u/3600585/AilsaElisabeth
1. You're incredible

Clutching hold of Mum's letters in one hand and dragging my suitcase in the other, it's back to school for me. The hall way is always a short walk when making way to lessons or tutor in the morning, but when heaving an incredibly heavy bag of clothes to my dorm room; it always seems a hike. Also, my leg doesn't help. The damned thing, I wish my parents were more careful…I wish they didn't have to dri-"WATSON!" I abruptly turned around to be greeted by the beaming Mike, or as he is better known as, Stamford. "Hey, ur, Stamford!" I spoke, almost wincing at the jolting pains down my leg. "Have you heard?" he spoke, eagerly leaning forward. "Ah, um, no?" I replied, hesitating at where this could be leading, he is one for making racist or sexist jokes when you least expect it. "They've changed our room partners? The school sent a letter home over the holidays! I'm with a kid called Anderson, heard of him? Apparently he's a right jerk! Go check with M's Hudson down in the lobby, she'll tell you who you're with!" He slapped my shoulder with great force. "See you later, yeah?" I nodded in agreement, first night back is always a catch up for Stamford and I, I smiled gently has he turned and ran off with his case. I looked back at my suitcase and sighed, of course I didn't read the post over the holidays, I didn't have the…time. I grabbed the fraying handle and dragged it back down the hall. So much for a 'happy new year'.

I was waiting in quite a long queue of other students who, like me, didn't read their mail over the break. "John Watson…" Mrs Hudson looked down the list of names and jabbed at mine, tracing her finger across the page to, again, jab at another name. "You're with Sherlock Holmes, dear! In room…" she tittered under her breath "21! You best be off, you don't have long till assembly." She placed a careful hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. "Thanks" I smiled back, she's been here since my first year. "Sherlock Holmes?!" A kid grunted in front of me. "I hear he's a right weirdo! Good luck mate!" I tried to give an icy stare as I walked past, I heard sniggers from the other students behind him. I've only heard of Holmes' name through whispers, nothing more. Apparently in second year he set fire to Dr Montgomery's science lab, well, at least that's a conversation starter.

As I approached the door to 21, I was greeted by my friend Molly; who was nervously standing outside, looking down the corridor in what seemed to be anticipation. "John!" she exclaimed, running up to me and grabbing my sides. "Molly! What are you doing in the boys house?" Our houses were separated by year groups and gender. "I was looking for you! Silly!" She giggled. "Hudson said I could quickly come and said hello! I wanted to know if you are alright after what happened…as well." She looked behind herself and over my shoulder. "Ah, I'm uh…fine thanks." Really, was I? No, but I wouldn't admit to that. "Looking for anyone?" I asked, mimicking her by looking over her shoulder and then turning around to see if there was anyone behind me…nope, only overly depressed looking teenagers slamming doors and play fighting. "I came to see Sherlock, actually!" "Oh?" "Yes" she whispered, smiling. I know what she was getting at. "I thought you and Mike were um-" I coughed " seeing each other?" She blushed and nodded her head. "No, no. Not, ah. Anymore…anyway, I've got to dash. I've left Sally to unpack for too long! See you soon, John" She dragged me into a speedy embrace and walked at a fast pace away from me. "Take care, Molly!" I laughed, turning to my door. Well, here goes.

I opened the door and wedged myself through, taking a quick glance over the room. Two beds, both made; one with books piled as high as my chest, I'm assuming that's Sherlock's. Two desks and one bedside table underneath the window. In the corner is one wardrobe and beside that is a double chest of draws; some already half open with shirts neatly folded inside. To the right of the entrance is a toilet, I had a quick peak; literally only a toilet and sink, damn, shared showers downstairs. And, no lock on the toilet door, great.

Whilst I was unpacking my toiletries into the cabinet in the bathroom, the entrance to our room swung open and slammed shut, causing me to nearly drop my soap, toothbrush and toothpaste in surprise. I walked out to see what the fuss was all about to be greeted to a very red faced Sherlock. "Ah, um, hello" I held a hand out in greeting "I'm John…Watson." Sherlock stared at my hand for a moment too long and awkwardly shook it and replied with a "Sherlock Holmes" he quickly gave me a glance over. Yes, okay. I have short sandy hair, blue eyes, a bulky frame and am short and he is much taller than me with black-thorn like curls that are almost trying to escape from his scalp like flames in a fire, piecing blue eyes, pale skin and an incredibly frail frame, but I could just feel him judging me. But oddly, he is rather…attractive, no? Certainly no-"I hope your family are coping well." He spoke and then spun around to start taking books from off his bed and piling them onto his desk. "I ur…wait, how di- Have you been speaking to Molly?" I swear at that point I saw his lip curl. "No, no. Do not speak of my family, okay?" I barked, placing the toothpaste on his desk with force. "I'm sorry." He said, staring directly at me. "You'll get over your leg injury soon, though." He calmingly said whilst leaping onto his now clear bed. "Whatever." I grunted. "It's lovely to meet you too".

Assembly was a bore, like usual. Mr Strutt droned on about how well we're all going to be this term and how lovely it is to see all our faces again after our break. I winced at when he said "and may this new year be happy for us all." How much does he know? Not a lot, apparently. What felt like hours after entering the far too warm hall, we all exited through the two main doors to be welcomed by a wall of fog and mist. We all groaned in realization, the fourth years male dorm is the other side of campus and I can't run there. I was soon left alone in the cold, barely making out the path in front of me and the beaming lights from bedrooms where people don't consider global warming, or, are lucky enough to already be in the warmth. As I hobbled along the path cursing under my breath, I heard a shout come from in front of me, followed by what sounded like somebody wailing out in pain, followed by a chorus of deep, shallow laughter. I raised my pace and before I knew it I was running, trying to find what was going on…and quickly, I noticed. I saw five silhouettes running off down the path, and on the floor trying to get up looked like…no, was it? The figure rolled over and held their head. Holmes? "Sherlock..?" I questioned, kneeling down to help him up. He didn't respond, just grabbed my arms in support and dragged himself up, grabbing hold of his ribs and coughing up what looked like blood. "Let me take you to first aid" I said. "NO!" he bleated back, his eyes opening and almost glowing in contrast to his skin. "Okay! Okay" I calmed him down, propping my arm under his to support his weight over mine. "Let's get you back to our room and I'll see what I can do instead, yeah?"

After apologizing to Stamford for not being able to meet him that evening and practically dragging Sherlock back up to our dorm room, he sat on his bed and stayed suspiciously silent as I dabbed his cuts with an old t-shirt that I'd packed. "So" I started, he drew a quick breath as I held the cloth close to the cut under his eye. "why did they do this to you?" he had been staring at the carpet all the time I had been washing his wounds. "Ah ur-" he almost panicked, his eyes quickly lifting from the floor and staring into mine. "It's nothing, really. Nothing at all…just, yeah. Long time stuff, you know? Yeah…me and them, we go way back." It's the first time I've ever witness him stall over his words, even though we've barely ever spoken before; he seems the type to never make many faults. "No, Sherlock. This-" I removed the rag and sat back a bit "this is not normal." He went to open his mouth and speak but I stopped him. For some reason, I was angry. I'd barely known this person for a day and now I'm incredibly protective over him? "Why?" I pestered. He looked at me, giving the look as if to say 'if I could say, I would', but then his facial features returned to an icy glare, he sat back to put his head against the pillow. "Goodnight, John." He said coldy. And as I got up to make my way to the bathroom, I swear I heard him say "thank you." But when turning round to ask him what he said, all I saw was a sprawled out lump under a thin duvet. And that was Sherlock.

I heard the door open and close, and after practically jumping out of bed to see what had happened to my room mate; a plate of poorly buttered toast and a mug of milky tea, with the bag still in, was presented to my face. "Breakfast" Sherlock muttered. "I made you breakfast." I looked at his face for a second and accepted the kind gesture by taking it from his hands and placing it on the desk next to my bed, quickly glancing at the clock; 5am? Shit. I looked back to him whilst rubbing my eyes and yawning. "Thanks Sherwlloack" my words slurred as I yawned again. "It's alright" he replied whilst sitting back on his bed, pulling from under his pillow a laptop. I sat up, what was the point of going back to sleep? I pulled myself up to prop my back against the wall, my leg then giving a prang of pain; I yelped in surprise, grabbing hold of my ankle through the sheets to try and calm the pain. "What's wrong?" Sherlock questioned, putting his laptop beside him and standing up. I pointed to a bag that was on my desk, he obeyed and opened it; pulling out my tablets. I was now curled up groaning in discomfort. "Shit..shit..SHIT" I wailed out, Sherlock disappeared into the bathroom and came running back to me with a glass of water. I grabbed the tablets and threw two in my mouth, washing them down with heavy sips of water. I put the glass aside and threw my head against the mattress and pulled the sheet to my face, trying to sob silently as Sherlock remained unsettled standing beside me. After a moment I had calmed down, the cold water still remained over my face and bedshirt, but I still led there. "Thank you for breakfast." I whispered "Why, exactly, did you do it for me…though?" He sat crossed legged on his bed. "Because you helped me, John." He replied. I sat up and pulled the plate of toast to near where I was leaning and shoved a corner into my mouth, typical; he didn't butter to the corners. "Ah" I answered with my mouth stuffed with toast "okay." I ended, crumbs falling from my mouth. "Don't talk with your mouth open, John." I looked up. "it's very unattractive." Sherlock got up, closing his laptop and putting it under his desk, and walked into the bathroom. I dropped the toast onto my place. What the hell did he mean?

5:42am, Christ. The showers should be free. I grabbed a towel from at the end of the bed and left our room holding my wash bag in my free hand; I decided to leave the tea for the time being, as much as I admired Sherlock making me it. Walking down the corridor, the silence was heavy. It was so unlike the other morning, I hadn't heard such a silence in a long time. I reached the shower, quickly unchanged; leaving my pajamas on the bench outside, who would be around to take them anyway? And climbed into the shower, shivering slightly at the temperature. I decided to quickly get the shower over with and scrubbed some shampoo into my hair, quickly rinsing it off, I grabbed my towel from the hanger and wrapped it round my waist and stepped out. I glanced at the steamed clock hanging on the wall and made out 5:53, who'd be up now? I scrunched together my pajamas and carried it under my arm, quickly rushing out into the main corridor. I turned to walk down the corridor, and like the night before, I found myself jogging; but this time trying everything to hold the flimsy piece of cotton over my body. I leaped up the stairs, two steps at a time, and reached room 21. I turned the handle to open the door, and to my surprise, it wouldn't budge. I tried again, this time with the weight of my shoulder pushing against it; still nothing. I threw my clothes beside the door and knocked lightly, no way am I waking anyone else up; they'd think it's funny to try and pull the towel from me. "Sherlock!" I hissed. Why did I not pack my key? He's probably fast asleep. I tried hitting the door again with my shoulder, still nothing. I leant against the door, now panting from the little jog I had and the fact I was nearly completely naked in the corridor of one of the busiest dorms in the school. I fell to the floor and sat with my legs straight in front of me, my scars just showing from the end of my towel, I lowered it slightly to hide them. It was growing colder and colder, and at that moment, I heard footsteps from the other end of the corridor, coming from around the corner. I quickly stood up, rearranging the towel around my waist. As the footsteps got loader, the curses leaving my mouth were growing just as loud. Then suddenly, the figure emerged carrying what seemed to be a mug. They walked closer, the little light in the corridor bouncing off their body. As the person grew closer, I noticed that it was Sherlock. I blushed instantly. He stood just a foot in front of me, looking straight at my face, looking down my body, then back up. I heard a snigger, and him open the door. Wait, he opened the door? With out a key? "Pull, John" he sniggered again. "It's a pull door,"

The insufferable, smug, good-looking, smart bastard. Wait, did I just call him good-looking? It turns out that mug was a fresh cup of tea for me; he went to get it for me when I left for a shower because of the pains in my leg. "Thanks, Sherlock." I said, whilst sitting back into bed, pulling on some pajama bottoms and not bothering with the shirt. I pulled the duvet up to my neck and balanced the mug on my knees. "What lessons do we have this week, then?" I asked, well, the silence had been growing for too long now. "I'm not sure about the week, but I know tomorrow we have another assembly first thing, then Maths, I have Physics after that and I think you have Geography?" I nodded. "Then…ugh, P.E, followed by English lit." I took a sip of my tea. "Your cuts are clearing well…" I said. "Hm? Oh, yes. Yes they are." He lifted his hands to prod the purple swell that was hanging from under his eye. "Careful!" I laughed. He collected his laptop again from his desk and opened it. "Do you have the internet on that thing?" I pointed into the direction of his laptop. "Yes, I do." He replied. "What about films?" I asked, sitting forward. "Films?" he spat back at me, as if to say 'why would I have a laptop and watch films on it'. "Yes, like the thing with the moving images and people speaking? You do know what a film is, right, Sherlock?" I said sarcastically. "Yes, John. I do." "And so? Can we watch one? We have a few hours till lunch, and I'm not leaving this room till then." He grunted "Okay, which film?" "War Horse! A Spielberg classic, Sherlock!" "Okay…" he replied, whilst picking up his laptop and making his way to my bed. He sat on top of the duvet and pulled a pillow from his back and, like me, leant against the wall. "This better be good, John."

"A film for pre pubescent girls, John." Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest after passing the laptop to my knees. "Wha- Sherlock, don't tell me you DIDN'T enjoy it?" "13 year old girls enjoy movies like this. Not 15 year old boys, John." "Whatever" I prodded his arm and checked the time, "It's almost one, wanna' go grab some lunch?" He was about to answer when there was a knock at the door. I got up to answer it, leaving Sherlock typing away on his laptop. I opened the door to Molly, who was about to say something when I completely forgot that I was not wearing a shirt, we blushed in unison. "Come in!" I ushered, Molly stepped in and then gave me a glare. I then noticed that I was standing there topless with my 'weirdo' and 'freak' roommate sat in my bed. "We watched War Horse." I said perhaps a little too quickly. "Oh, I love that film!" Molly giggled, Sherlock giving a heavy cough as if to say; 'A GIRLS FILM, John'. "Have you eaten yet?" I asked Molly, ignoring Sherlock. "No not yet…" she spoke quietly whilst perching on the edge of my desk. "Okay…well, Sherlock and I are about to go and grab some food, if you want to join us?" She nodded. "I best leave to let you guys change then…" she stood up and walked to the door. "Meet you at the end of the corridor" I said, closing the door behind her. I breathed heavily and turned around to be greeted by a thrown pillow in my face. "Meet you at the end of the corridor." Sherlock mimicked. "Shut up or I'll force you to go to lunch in your pajamas, Sherlock."

After getting changed, Sherlock and I made our way down to greet Molly. "Pasta bake for lunch, guys." She seemed incredibly ecstatic about the prospects of this cheap meal. "With a side order of horse?" I said almost coldly, Molly made the face of being sick. Sherlock put his lips next to my ear and whispered "War Horse, John. Remember?" I prodded him in the ribs and he gave a grunt of pain. "Shit, sorry Sherlock!" I placed my hand on his shoulder. "I forgot…" "It's fine" he smiled…smiled. When _he _smiles, the right hand side of his lips tilts up, the other side falls down. He reveals his pearly, well kept teeth and they sit just under his incredibly visible cupids bow. His lips are a soft tone…the colour I'd associate to 'ice-pink'. And when he smiled, they gave off warmth to those around him-"John?!" I lifted my eyes from his lips, shit; how long had I been staring? Molly grabbed the sleeve of my t-shirt and lured me into the direction of the café.

We sat down in a quiet corner in the café, placing our grim looking trays in front of us. There were a few people still mingling around, mostly just trying to ask others for help on their homework before tomorrow. I continuously pushed pieces of pasta around my plate whilst Molly quick-fired questions to Sherlock. All I could think of was why I found his lips so intriguing. I felt as if I wanted to map out ever crease over his face…allowing my fingers to lightly dance over his soft skin. Leaving gentle bruises around his neck…I coughed lightly, pushing back my plate. "You've barely eaten anything, John!" Molly sighed. In reply, I ripped off a small chunk of garlic bread and threw it into my mouth, chewing lightly. I picked up my empty glass and stood. "Anybody else want water?" I asked, I don't know why; I could see their full glasses sitting in front of them, I grunted. I made my way to the water tap, I felt lost. Pouring water into my glass, I was left staring out the window opposite. In a real blur. Am I attracted to Sherlock? No, surely not. My sister is gay, there can't be two in the family. What is dad going to say? No…no, what would he have said. John, remember. You can't be gay. You can't. He'd be disappointed…that's how he…why he crash-no, john. no do not. but…the constant fighting. the alcohol. mum in hospital. alone is all I had…all I had. I felt the glass slip under my hand, I'd left the tap running and the cup had completely over flowed and shattered at the bottom of the sink…I felt my leg give way, my head flicker into a black mist. I felt my shoulder crash against the cold, hard tiles and my head rested back against a leg of the chair…I felt a hand on my shoulder…pressing my face…

I woke in a daze. There was a flannel draped across my forehead and I was still lying in the same position as earlier. My legs were still sprawled out, but my scarred one was in a cast…thing. Which was propping it in a straight position. My vision was blurred from…tears? Oh gosh, I'm weeping like a baby. I opened my eyes slightly and beside me was Molly, oh I was glad to see her. I felt myself speaking, but I didn't know what. Words were leaving my lips, I saw Molly point, I turned to see Sherlock, who's hand was resting on my forearm. I smiled weakly. In front of me was standing a very concerned Stamford, who was talking to a dinner lady next to him. I moved my hands to rest over my face, causing Sherlock to pull away. No, I didn't want him to pull away. I moved my hand back to it's original position and he got the silent sign that body contact is what I needed. It was what comforted me. I haven't had much comfort since Da-…since Dad…I felt a sudden jolt of pain through my leg. It seized up and I rolled over wailing. I felt Sherlock leave my side, and behind my embarrassingly loud groans I heard him talk to somebody and then disappear. I felt Molly rearrange the flannel on my head and soothe my skin. I few moments later, Sherlock returned. I saw over my head that Molly was passed a slim piece of plastic, and she took out two tablets. I was then sat up by someone, and Molly handed me the tablets; I instantly put in my mouth. Then…a glass of water was raised to my lips by somebody different. They were holding my head and slowly tipping water into my mouth, almost cooing me to relax. I turned my head slightly to see Sherlock kneeling beside me, his tailored jeans stretching just over his legs, which were touching the side of my body. His shirts sleeves were rolled to his elbow…and the rest of the shirt stretching slightly over his torso as he leaned over. His hair was just sticking over his eyes…his curling, deep chestnut hair. I leaned into his hand, rolling the side of my head onto his arm, facing straight into where I assume his belly button is…he pulled me closer to him, and before I knew it, my head was resting in his lap and I was sobbing. Like a toddler after scraping a knee, my hands were clutching onto his thighs, and there was me. Crying into my roommates lap. In front of what seemed to be half the school watching.

I've been in bed for the past 6 hours, ugh. After collapsing in the café everybody insisted that I rest for the remainder of the day. I've had Molly and Stamford both visit me together, which I was surprised at, and they had sat around mostly just rifling through Sherlock's books to find anything of interest. I hadn't seen Sherlock since I rested my head in his lap. I wanted to thank him for comforting me when I was in pain, but what if he wasn't here for a reason? What if he doesn't want to approach me because of me getting close to him…I moaned and threw the pillow over my head. I was still dressed in my day clothes, so I quickly undid my buckle and shimmied the trousers from my legs and threw them beside the bed, and then pulled my t-shirt over my head and threw it in the general direction of the trousers. At the moment when I put my head back down, the door silently opened; and in crept Sherlock. I sat myself up, leaning on my elbows, giving an uneasy smile. As he walked over to hang his coat over his chair, the smell of cigarettes and damp clothing swilled through into my senses. "Have you been smoking, Sherlock?" he glanced over to me and sat down on his bed, pulling out a book from underneath it. "Yes." He answered bluntly. "You're far too young to smoke! Why on earth would you corrupt your lungs like that?" he grunted. "And why do you care so much for my health?" I wasn't expecting a comment like that back, I was expecting for him to say 'I know, John. It's my life choice.', or something along those lines. I spat on my words, struggling to say anything, and sat up straight. "Because…no, Sherlock. That doesn't even matter. What even convinced you to do such a thing?" Sherlock laughed. When he laughs, it's like…no, it's a chuckle. His deep voice goes even deeper, it seems to echo through your mind and not leave. "How quaint" he spoke into his book. "I'm sorry?" I said, not quite catching on what he meant by that. "You are." He replied. "I don't get what you mean." I whispered harshly. "Then perhaps, before you do, you work out your own issues." I looked at him and just stared, what does he even mean? "What ever, Sherlock." I got up the move to the bathroom, caring not one bit that I was in only my underwear. I crossed the room and I could feel Sherlock staring at me. Staring at my leg. Staring at my scars. But I didn't care, he can make whatever judgments he wants to. I stood in the bathroom for a few minutes, continuously washing my face. I then thought…who was there for me and comforted me earlier on today? Who ran to get my medication because they didn't like to see me in pain? Sherlock…Sherlock did. And now I'm here treating him like a child. I walked back into the room and Sherlock was in the exact position I had left him, flopped over his bed with a book resting on his chest. I rummaged through my draw and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and stood at the edge of Sherlock's bed. I tugged lightly at his jeans and he looked up at me. He got the idea that I wanted him to stand, and he did. He placed a hand on my shoulder and I just stared at him. "I'm sorry-" my voice broke, and at that point I wrapped my arms around his waist. "Thank you Sherlock, thank you…". Hopefully he saw this s a 'brohug', it meant nothing else. But he was comforting. I felt safe, protected; no longer vulnerable. I let go of him and took a pillow from both our beds and placed them opposite each other on the floor. I sat on the one closest to my bed, and Sherlock sat on the other. "So tell me-" I said. " how do you know about my family?"

Sherlock glowed. He was happy because, for once, somebody _wanted_ to know how he could deduce things; rather than somebody discouraging him for it. "When I first saw you, John, I noticed first your hair. Cropped, military style, yet it's grown out slightly. You had it cut a while ago, then. Most like not your choice. Next, your slight limp. I barely noticed it at first, but now I know for sure that you injured it. Most likely in a tragic accident. You have been in a quite a bit of pain the past two days but you've chosen not to contact your parents, that shows you have issues with them. I also read recently in an article about an officer who came home distressed from Afghanistan, and after the stresses from there and a family member walking out; he turned to alcohol. He soon started to care for nobody other than himself, and so, he forced his wife and son into his car and drove under the influence of alcohol. He then crashed, killing himself and injuring his wife and son. The family member who walked out has not yet given a statement about the family life before the accident happened." I sat dumbfounded, staring into what seemed to be oblivion. I saw him uneasily look around the room, I suddenly felt very cold, and yes; I wasn't wearing a top, but this was a different kind of cold. "I'm sorry" Sherlock said. "Sherlock, that was incredible. Please don't apologize." He looked up at me from where he was playing with the end of his jeans. "You are an incredible human being, Sherlock."


	2. We're late, Sherlock!

I woke up slumped on the floor facing Sherlock, whom like me, was slumped across the floor. We'd been up all night just chatting and we must have got to the point where we both just literally 'fell' asleep. I looked over to the clock, 8:07am. "SSHHHHIT" I grabbed hold of my desk and dragged myself up from the ground, my back clicking in several different places. "SHERLOCK!" I shouted, gently kicking his foot whilst stumbling to the other side of the room to reach the wardrobe. I quickly opened it and ripped out two shirts and threw one into the direction of Sherlock. "Sherlock, quickly! We're late for breakfast and it's assembly soon!" I quickly buttoned my shirt and ran to the chest of draws and grabbed some trousers for Sherlock and myself, I threw his pair over my shoulder. I turned around and saw Sherlock lift his top from over his head, every curl effortlessly bouncing when retreating to its place. He is skinny and pale, and there are moles dotted around his torso and waist. He slowly buttoned his shirt, his soft skin disappearing in every swift motion of him doing up another button, all I wanted was to trace my hand over every little brown speck on his body and kiss them gently, no, John you're not like that; remember? I quickly snapped back into reality and tried to smoothly throw on my trousers, only to trip backwards. I led there on the floor and slid up my trousers and jumped back up. "We'll come back for our bags, Sherlock." I ordered whilst slipping on an odd, and no doubt dirty, pair of socks. Sherlock had already put on his shoes and tie and was now brushing his teeth, what sorcery is that? I grabbed hold of my tie and shoved it into my pocket and ran into the bathroom. We furiously brushed for what seemed an eternity and we spent far too long wedged together in the small bathroom that we really did forget what personal space is. We threw our brushes in sync and ran for the door, grabbing our blazers, which were hanging from the door, on our way out. "Hurry, John!" Sherlock barked from ahead, then remembering my leg and stopping in pace. He turned and walked to my side and didn't say anything more.

After grabbing a mug of tea and croissant and chose a relatively well hidden table near the back exit of the café. We sat, for a while, in silence. I almost drenched my French delicacy in strawberry jam, Sherlock reluctantly only stuck with butter. We were disturbed by Stamford. "John!" he ran over, bacon butty in hand. "Do you mind if I-" he pointed to the chair next to me. "No, no. Go ahead!" I nudged Sherlock's feet from it. "Thanks," he said. "How's Anderson?" I asked whilst taking a satisfying bite out of my croissant. "Irritating" he scowled. "He's taken over more than half the room and left his clothes everywhere." "Like somebody I know…" Sherlock chipped in and Stamford chose to ignore him. "He asked out Sally yesterday morning. I came to tell you that they were getting it on in our room and ask if you wanted to come and irritate them with me, but that's when…ah, you know. Fell." I made a face of disgust whilst sipping my tea. At that point, the bell rang; marking a ten minute warning for assembly. Stamford and I groaned in unison, Sherlock stood and collected both our plates. "See you at assembly." He said with a light smile and walked off. I thought to myself, how did I ever let this happen?

Stamford and I were one of the first to arrive, taking seats near to the back of the hall; preparing for a swift exit. And I saved a chair next to myself for Sherlock. "You and 'im…" Mike started, I inwardly sighed. "you are really starting to get along, aren't you?" he ended. "Yeah, yes…he's a nice lad." I tried to keep the conversation minimal and informal. "A bit weird though, right?" I looked straight ahead, weighing up the options of knocking my friends lights out or agreeing with him to seem normal. I just sat in silence instead. At that point, Molly walked past with Anderson and Sally. They took the seats available next to Stamford. Ten minutes later, the hall had now practically filled up completely and still no sign of Sherlock. The assembly had now started, I impatiently sat; wriggling in my seat. I peeked down the isle to see Stamford nodding off, Molly sat upright _trying _to remain interested in the assembly and at the end was Anderson slowly creeping his hand over his leg to hold Sally's; I shivered in disgust. At that moment, I felt a brush of air and I turned to see Sherlock sat beside me. I quickly smiled but then noticed he was clutching a blood stained tissue to his nose. "Sherlock?" I whispered, turned my body completely round to assess his situation. I held my hand to his and he passed the tissue to me, and I continuously dabbed at the blood. I handed him back the tissue and crept over to where Mrs Hudson was standing. "Do you mind if Sherlock and I leave? I need to take him to first aid." I whispered. She looked over my shoulder to Sherlock and back to me and nodded, I thanked her and returned to Sherlock. Together we left the hall, with some glares from other fourth years and a confused glance from Stamford.

We got outside and walked to a safe distance from the hall so we would be able to talk at a confident tone. I pointed at a bench and he obeyed, I sat next to him - my eyes not leaving his face. "Who did this to you…?" I spoke at barely a whisper, Sherlock didn't reply. "Sherlock" I raised my voice. "who did this to you?". He put his face into his palms, allowing his tissue to fall into his lap. I took it and pushed his hands away, dabbing away some more blood…and now, tears? Was that tears? Sherlock edged himself closer to me and carried on silently sobbing. "Oh, Sherlock." I spoke under my breath. I put a hand around Sherlock's back and he fell onto my shoulder. His back was rocking from where he was trying to adumbrate his pain. This was so unlike Sherlock, the teenager who I'd barely known for three days.

The bell sounded marking the end of assembly, and out came hoards of rowdy and proud teenagers from just having silently sat through such a mundane speech. Not many people passed us, as we were on a bench on a small path just off the main one. But one group of people approached us, and looked as if they wanted to…and for all the worst reasons. "Oi! Sherlock!" the, I'm assuming, gang leader shouted. "is this your little boyfriend?" he laughed, looking around at the rest of his posse for support in his apparent joke. Sherlock sat up, removing his head from my shoulder. His face was blotchy from tears but still remained to give a cold and icy stare. "Paha, queer fuck." And at that point, I lost all control of my body. That line was enough to allow me to make my first move. I stood and shoved him back and he fell into his 'gang'. Sherlock stood next to me and told me to, I think, 'stop'. I didn't. The ringleader threw a punch in my direction, catching my jaw just so. I felt an instant bruise but that didn't stop me. Standing myself straight again I threw the hardest punch to his nose and shouted, "Now how does it feel?". In the time of me doing that, all six members of their party surrounded us; enclosing us in a small space. One went for Sherlock and I grabbed him by the waist and tackled him to the floor, leaving Sherlock to fend for himself. I hit the guy hard in the ribs and went to stand; only to receive a kick into my back. I could feel bruises on every inch of my body, but these thugs broke Sherlock…broke him. I stood to witness Sherlock in a headlock getting punched and kicked from the sides. I hit the kid who had him in a headlock; hearing him wail out in pain. I went to grab one of the boys kicking Sherlock when somebody called out. "STOP THAT, INSTANTLY!" We all inwardly panicked knowing the voice instantly. It was Mr Philpott, no, Professor Philpott; he insisted he called him that. He scuttled over waving his arms over his head, we all backed away from one another and almost stood to attention. "Mr Strutt's office NOW!" he bellowed. Sherlock and I moved first. I held a hand on his shoulder asking if he was 'alright', but he just stared ahead. "Don't talk to me." He spat. "I'm just a dirty fag."

We had sat outside Mr Strutt's office for around ten minutes and messages were sent to our mathematics classes regarding that we'd be late. I mostly sat looking directly ahead looking at a poster with a cheesy quote on it. Sherlock sat two seats down from me still clutching the same tissue to his nose and the boys were giving their statement in the heads office. The door opened and the group walked out, all looking far too smug for themselves when they thought no teachers could see them. "Sherlock, John. You can come in now." He held the door open for us and closed it once we'd both entered and sat. This is going to be a long morning.

"The others have told me their side of the story. Sherlock, I'll start with you." He reshuffled some papers. "They told me that you spoke to them harshly one evening and said some rather inappropriate names, is this true?" Sherlock sat back in his chair. "No, sir. I'd like it if we could speak alone, though." I glanced at him and felt as if I had just been stabbed in the back with a butcher's knife. "Very well. John, do you mind stepping outs-" "No I don't." I stood quickly and stormed to the door, glancing only slightly a gloomy looking Sherlock. I reached outside and slammed my hands against the wall opposite the door. I slumped back into the chair and stared at my glowing hand. "The tosser…" I said under my breath. I put my head between my legs and ran my hands over my face. Am I crying? No. I can't be.

Around 20 minutes of silence later, spare the few people who walked past on way to other offices; Strutt's door opened. Sherlock stepped out and his face was a little blotchy around the edges. "He would like to speak to you now, John. See you back at 21." And he then walked off. Hands in pockets, head hung low. I stood and walked into the office and sat in the same chair I had done earlier on. "Ah, John. Nice to see that you've calmed down now. I know it hasn't been easy for you these past months, but you can't go taking it out on others." "But sir, that isn't the reason why-" "No, John. Sherlock has explained everything in full detail." "But I need to give my own personal statement?" "Hm…true. Okay, you have ten minutes and then you return to class."

I told him everything. I spoke about the name-calling, me dragging him back to our room the previous day and then what happened today. He sat there looking at me, his hands playing along his desk and occasionally his face. Mr Strutt has a bold head and a thin wired pair of glasses that, most the time, sat around his neck on a chain. He wore expensive suits and always the same tie. When explaining myself, he often nodded his head and said "Yep" or "Yes" at a harsh whisper. Once I had finished my statement, he stood and buttoned his blazer and walked to the door. "Thank you, Mr Watson. You'll be hearing from me very soon." He opened it and standing the other side was a tall man with an expensive suit that made Mr Stutt's look like a Primark special. He was wielding a black umbrella over his left arm and was typing furiously on his phone until I walked up past him. "Ah, John?" He glanced from his mobile and I looked at him in what must've been the most amusing manner as he slightly grinned. "Yes, that's me." His slight grin then turned into a full smile. He walked past me and shook Mr Strutt's hand. Strutt matched the other mans grin "Lovely to see you again, Mycroft!" His tune had changed a lot since five minutes earlier. I then thought it'd be wise for me to leave, and so I did. Let's see how long it takes for somebody to ask me where I was in maths.

I peered through the glass window in the door, everyone is working and talking, perfect, I can creep in. I turned the handle and snuck in, giving Mr Edmunds a calming smile and sitting down at the front of the room alone to save myself from any questions. I flipped open my book and started reading. Well, I say reading. I was more looking at the page but reading through my own mind. What has suddenly Sherlock suddenly got in to? Suddenly, he wants nothing to do with me. Suddenly, all the help I have given him means nothing whatsoever. Suddenly, our friendship means…nothing to him. I was so busy in my own thoughts that I had not realized that Mr Edmunds have been calling my name for at least six times, leaving the class all silent and focusing purely on me. "Ah…um, sorry. You'll have to repeat that." He frowned at me. "You were tearing up my maths book, Mr Watson. That is an offence to the school and is going to result in you having an hours detention tonight." I looked down at my desk and in front of me was a crumpled page of geometry. "I'm sorry, sir." I coughed. "Can I be excused?" he nodded and I stood, collecting my bag and dashing for the door. When I got into the corridor, I moved and leant against the wall; the cold bricks cooling my back. It was far too warm in that classroom.


	3. And in strode Sherlock in my duffle

It was now break. I chose to skip the rest of maths because I couldn't bare going back in there and facing the stares. I've been sat half way between the café and the library on a long bench and just staring. Not even thinking. I was staring at the floor when I heard a cough beside me, I looked up and Sherlock was staring down. "Sherlock!" I stood up, putting a hand on his shoulder. He shook himself so my hand would slip. "What's wrong?" I asked, stepping a minor step backwards to allow him to realize that he has the space if he needs it. "I…I think we should no longer be friends, John." I stared at him, but his eyes were darting off in the distance, never settling on me. "I'm…sorry?" "We should no longer be friends, please don't make me repeat myself. I'm obviously putting you in stress and danger. You had enough to deal with over Christmas and I'm just an even heavier burden for you to carry. I am sorry." He looked me in the eye and gave me a faint smile and walked off. I stood still for a moment too long and jogged over him towards the café. "Sherlock! Sherlock, wait…" I grabbed his shoulder and he spun round. "No, john! What did I say? Do not talk to me, alright?" he was shouting, people around us staring. He looked to the people around us and continued his way down the path. A student to my left put his hand on my shoulder. "Little domestic, is it?" everybody laughed. I remained silent. I best go collect my PE bag from room 21.

I walked into the room and felt as if I just walked in on finding a dead body. The room was still and quiet. Our pillows were still heaped on the ground with our pajamas thrown at random across the room. I picked up Sherlock's bed shirt and rubbed it with my thumb. So soft. I looked at the label and recognized the expensive brand and laughed under my breath. I then wondered; what does _pure_ Sherlock smell like? I've smelt his dampness and cigarettes, but everyone has a distinctive smell…I lifted the clothing to my nose and took a heavy breath in. It smelt strongly of clothing softener, obviously an expensive brand. There was also a light smell of sweat and a little bit of his aftershave around the collar of it. It radiated through my body, making me warm. I noticed how odd this must be and then discarded the thought. This made me comfortable and it was relaxing me. My tensed muscles almost sighed a relief. At that moment, I heard the bathroom door open and out walked Sherlock in his school uniform with a towel wrapped around his hair. "I…err." I threw his shirt to the ground and struggled to pick up my kit bag next to my bed. "Sorry, I just came back for my um kit bag." I picked it up and stormed towards the door. I gave a quick look at Sherlock and he made a face that looked like a puppy begging its owner to give him a treat. I ignored him and rushed out the door, closing it behind me. And as I was walking down the corridor, I swear I heard it open gently behind me. But even if Sherlock did open the door, I ignored him.

I sat through the whole of Geography just replaying that moment in my head. Sherlock caught me with his shirt. Even worse, I had it pressed against my nose. And I was now standing in the PE changing room, and am not getting changed because of my damned leg. I was keeping Stamford company by mundanely laughing at his sexist jokes and I often saying one back to keep him content. Ten minutes later, we were all out on the football field. I found a bench dry enough to sit on and wrapped myself up in my duffle coat. It was starting to drizzle when the game started, and all I could think of was last term. I was captain of the team, the player everyone respected. I played midfield and put all my effort into it. Then I got my injury and I am not allowed to play for at least another seven months. It suddenly got cold and just as I was about to stand up for a walk, I heard someone creeping up behind me. I sighed and turned around to, in my surprise, be greeted by Molly. "Hi, Mols." I tried to keep my voice quite high spirited but failed in doing so. "Hello, John." She giggled. "I found this in my bag just now, it's addressed to you. I have no idea how it got there!" I took the white envelope from her hand and thanked her, making sure she was at a distance before opening it. Inside I found a piece of paper with a mobile number and beside it saying 'Text me ASAP'. I rummaged for my phone in my pocket and typed in the number and then wrote "Who is this? – JW' to the anonymous person and less than two minutes there was a reply. "Meet me at the stairs leading to the year eights male block.' I looked around me, everyone was busy; I managed to then sneak away, the drizzle lightly hitting my face.

I arrived at where I was told to be in just under ten minutes, which was fast considering my leg. And I don't know why I chose to obey the text, I guess it's the fact I was so bored…and watching my friends play my favourite sport without me was not enjoyable. I chose to stand just behind a bush, keeping myself away from any wondering teachers and with their wondering thoughts of what I'm up to. Seven minutes later and still no one had arrived, I pushed myself from the wall I was leaning to when suddenly there was a grasp on my shoulder, I turned around in almost a fluster and there was Sherlock standing opposite me.

I looked at him and inwardly sighed. His hair was soggy and strands of his curls were clinging onto his face. His eyes were focused on me, and around them were small little bruises from what had happened earlier. His nose was sore and specs of blood were still visible. I resisted the urge to lean in and gently wipe those speckles away. He wasn't wearing his coat or scarf and his jumper had soaked through so much that I could make out his white shirt underneath. "John." He removed his hand from my shoulder and stuffed it into his pocket. "How about we stand inside?" I asked. He pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips and then shielded his lighter from the rain with his pale, slender hands. I chose this action as a way of saying 'No.' to going inside. I looked around nervously and undid my coats buttons. "Here." I said, thrusting the coat into his direction. "I've got two jumpers on today anyway." He stared at the coat and passed his cigarette to my free hand, I carefully took it from him and held it with care. He slid on the coat and put up the fake-fur hood. I laughed and passed him back his cigarette. "Thank you." He said, whilst exhaling the smoke into the air. "And I'm sorry." He said a few moments later. "For what?" I answered, shifting from one foot to another. "Don't be silly." He laughed. "I acted like a fool earlier. And I am sorry." He sat crossed legged on the wet grass, I stared at him for a moment too long and he looked up. "Aren't you going to sit too?" he pestered. "Yes, I…urm, yes." I sat beside him. "So why did you get in such a shit mood then?" I picked at the grass in front of me and he held his cigarette out to my hand. "No thanks." "Well" he began. "It's quite confusing, really. And almost a bit private…" he mumbled with his cigarette in his mouth. "You don't have to tell me…" I said. "But then you did treat me like shit, so you do." He continued staring at the ground. "It's difficult…" I stayed silent. "I…don't know how to…" he stood. "Another time, perhaps?" he threw his cigarette to the ground and put it out under the heel of his shoe, I scrambled up from the ground. "Thank you for coming." He patted my shoulder and left his hand there. I folded my arms around his chest for a hug, and he placed his head on my shoulder, leaving his other hand on my other shoulder. "Thank you" he whispered. "It is difficult." He backed out of the embrace and walked down the path, still wearing my coat.

We had English literature last, and Sherlock chose to come in late wearing my coat. Miss Long was in mid speech when the door flung open and in strode Sherlock, in my duffle. Molly nudged my elbow and whispered into my ear "Isn't that your coat, John?" I nodded my head slowly and continued writing the lesson title in my book. I tried to block out the sound of Sherlock apologizing to the teacher, I couldn't. His voice sent vibrations straight through me…no, John. Remember, what would dad say? Sherlock went to his seat at the front of class and didn't turn his head for the rest of the lesson.

At the end of the lesson, Sherlock passed me my coat –with the stares from passing students- and I went off to attend my detention in Mr Edmunds' room. And all I did in there for an hour was complete the English literature homework; detentions were often useful.

On my way back through our dorm house, I bumped into Stamford and Anderson. "Hey, John!" Mike bounced up to me, leaving Anderson to run up behind. "Hey Stamford! And you, Anderson." I gave Anderson a wink for a laugh, Mike giggled uncontrollably. "We were wondering if you'd like to come over to our room for a night in our room Friday? Molly and Sally will be there!" Mike was throwing his arms around in excitement. "And has this been allowed by Hudson?" I laughed. Anderson snorted, "Of course not! But you will need to bring your own girl, Watson." He mimicked the wink I gave him earlier, I inwardly swore. "Yeah, okay." I smiled. "I will be there. Now I gotta' go, see you guys later!" they nodded and ran back into the common room, leaving me to make my way to room 21.

It's now Friday morning, not much has happened through out the week. Nobody has bothered Sherlock again and my leg hasn't played up much at all. I did meet up with Stamford yesterday evening for dinner, we had a good laugh, which is always needed when I spend most my evenings dealing with the petulant Sherlock. We stayed up late last night, mostly catching up on homework, but also having a good old natter. Sherlock is, surprisingly, good with gossip. I sat crossed legged listening eagerly to all the deductions Sherlock had made when I was with Mike. He told me about a student and teacher affair, a bit of drug abuse, and, eventually, a late night rave that is happening in the run down summer house in the back field. Sherlock spoke to me till I was fast asleep and his voice was more calm and collected when he saw me drifting off, hugely unlike the Sherlock people see in class; and I value that to great extent.

When waking up, I looked over to Sherlock who was half on and off his bed. I got up and nudged his shoulder, his little wake up alarm, and he grunted; a hand appeared from under his mass and made a dismissive wave in the air. I grabbed it and pulled him gently, causing him to fall out of bed and land on the floor. "Get up, you lazy shit." I threw his shirt at him from across the room as he was left trying to get up, he looked like a spider with roller-skates on. "Thanks for your help, John". Soon after that, we were both changed and were down in the café for breakfast, snacking on the delights of toast, tea, and jam.

Before we knew it, the end of the day had arrived. Friday in boarding school marks ultimate freedom, it is a rule that the teachers and guardians now let us roam free around the grounds. And those who come here for school daily return home, and some return home just for weekends; they are always the lucky ones, at the end of the day.

I was running Sherlock and my washing down to the laundry room when I bumped into Miss Hudson. "Hello, dear! Are you alright?" "Yes, ah…yeah, well." She made an uncertain smile. "I wasn't doing well." I carried on. "At the beginning of the week, I was struggling. But I'm alright now." Mrs Hudson is my mother here at Hampstead, she always has been. She is aware of all my problems at home and is just so caring and understanding. "That's good." She smiled gently. "If you need me, I'll be in my room." She said whilst walking off. "Thank you, madam." I shouted behind her. "John!" somebody called my name down the corridor, I turned to see Anderson. "Hey, ur, mate!" I said back. "We're thinking of having a night at ours tomorrow as well, or as the girls call it, a sleepover. If you're up for it?" he leaned against the wall in desperate need to look cool. "Yeah, sure. Let me get my things together and sort some stuff out and I'll be over as soon as I can." I gave a grin and ran off down the corridor, cursing under my breath. Why do I let myself into this stuff?

I entered room 21 and Sherlock was perched on his desk watching out of the window. "Alright, Hawk-Eye. Give it a rest and pack a bag of clothes." He spun his head round and unfolded his hands from his legs and let them drop over the desk. "I am sorry, pack a bag?" he gave me a puzzled look whilst I threw his empty kit bag at his chest. "Yes! Toothbrush, pajamas, we can share my toothpaste, spare clothes and underwear. You know, everything you pack for a sleep over." He stood and went to grab his pajama bottoms. "Sleepover?" "Yes, sleepover! You know, when you go to a friends place and sleep there?" he blinked forcefully. "And which one of my many friends am I sleeping the night with, John?" "Me!" "I do that every night, John. I am being serious, who is it?" I sighed. "Stamford, Anderson, Molly and Sally. They asked me to invite a girl, but to be truthful, I have no girl friends…apart from Molly." Sherlock smiled and said nothing else and I became a little cautious what he found amusing. "We're leaving in five, are you ready?" Sherlock gave a brief nod and disappeared into the bathroom. I collapsed onto my bed. "Let's just hope nobody mentions the lack of my girl." I whispered to myself.


	4. We can't giggle, they'll hear us

We arrived at Stamford and Anderson's room fairly late on and to find that they were only lazing about their room and sharing awful jokes, awaiting Molly and Sally. I knocked on the door twice, clutching over my shoulder two kit bags, Sherlock said that if I didn't hold it he wouldn't come. So naturally I obeyed. The door opened, and standing the other side looked a very happy Stamford. "John! Hey mate." He brought me into an embrace and looked over my shoulder and noticed Sherlock. "And this must be your plus one? Your lady friend? Alright, Sherlock?" he leaned against the doorway and almost looked in shock. "I am fine, thank you." Sherlock replied and Stamford smiled in return. "You guys better come in then before somebody sees us." He grabbed my bags and walked into the room, I turned to face Sherlock. "Sherlock, if you feel uncomfortable at any point just say and we can go back to 21." He gave a gentle smile. "I should be okay, but we should have a code word for it…" I nodded. "How is Vatican Cameos?" "Sounds great." I ended, walking into the room first, letting Sherlock take his own pace.

When we walked in, I could see Sherlock's face read everything. He was reading every little area of mess, or their un-ironed shirts hanging over chairs or even the small mound of something hiding under a sheet on their desk. Stamford noticed he was staring and drew back the sheet and revealed a pile of sweets, crisps and fizzy drinks and also two cans of cider. "I felt I had to prepare." He jokingly laughed and flopped on the bed staring at the pile whilst I took seat on the floor, leaning against a desk. Sherlock sat next to me. "So, what d'ya have planned?" I questioned whilst slipping my shoes off and placing them next to the door. "I don't know yet mate" he sighed. "Moll and Sally are getting here in the next ten minutes." Mike replied and Sherlock then slid his own shoes off and placed them caringly next to mine. "I didn't know you'd be bringing Holmes, though!" he laughed, giving a glance over to Anderson. "Well, I couldn't leave him in our room alone all weekend, could I?" I rocked myself gently to nudge Sherlock's arm. "And anyway, he might enjoy himself." I scooted myself around and led my back on the floor, stretching my legs up the oak desk. "Yeah, well. Let's see if Sherlock enjoys playing our games, 'ey Stamford?" I groaned. "Don't do anything silly." I then tried to say jokingly whilst running my legs up and down the desk, then dutifully propping them against the top. There was a knock at the door and Anderson bounced over and opened it with great force. "Mo-Mrs Hudson!" he coughed, closing the door just slightly to give Mike some time to quickly hide the food, he then allowed the door to open completely and Mrs Hudson peaked her head around to look all over the room, her eyes stopped at Sherlock and John and she smiled. "Alright boys, this is my last round of the day. I wont be checking on you all again unless you're making a racket!" she giggled. "Have fun." She closed the door gently behind her. "Well, that could've gone worse." Stamford said whilst still standing in the middle of the room.

Ten tedious minutes later, Molly and Sally arrived. It was nearly dark and they almost got caught, but they were in high spirits nevertheless. "Hi, John!" Molly called out, throwing her arms around my shoulders and pulled back "And Sherlock!" she sounded shocked and fully embraced Sherlock into a hug, I looked keenly to see how he'd react. He timidly patted her back and she steadily pulled away to greet Mike. "Hey, Sally." I gave an awkward wave and she smiled back and then moved on to 'saying hello' to Anderson. I turned to Sherlock "You alright?" I smiled. "Yeah, actually. I am." He smiled back. I turned to Stamford "What's the plan?" I asked. "We chill around here for a few hours, till everyone is asleep, then we go walking." His voice was muffled from Molly's cardigan and long hair. "And in the meantime…" I went to ask. "We chill." He repeated. "and play games and eat food." He pulled back from Molly and placed his hand around her shoulder. I turned to Sherlock and sat back down, him following me. "I always thought they'd split up?" he mouthed and I made a face of amusement back at him "So had I."

It'd been an hour since the girls had arrived and we hadn't done much. I say we, but that is just Sherlock and myself. Sally and Anderson had taken to talking and snogging on his bed and Molly and Mike were just sat crossed legged feeding each other random sweets. Sherlock and I were still sat crossed legged on the floor just talking and enjoying the company. "Here!" I offered him a sour sweet. "Why are you looking so evil?" he asked, placing the sweet to his lips. "Just eat it!" I laughed. He put it in his mouth and his face crumpled. "Jo-" he threw himself backwards to lie down, rolling around holding his hands to his face. I leaned forwards on my hands howling with laughter, causing everyone in the room to look over. "John, that was disgusting." He stopped rolling around and stared at the ceiling, I moved backwards and to rest my head against the desk to try and cool myself down. "Who's up for truth or dare?" Sally removed herself from under Anderson and went to get one of the empty bottles that were littered on the floor, I turned to Sherlock and saw him almost freeze from fear and I placed a hand on his shin and smiled gently. "Don't worry." I whispered.

We all sat in a circle surrounding a bottle and I could almost read Sherlock's thoughts. 'Why are we circling a bottle, John?' 'Is this some sort of Christian method of praying or are we just literally surrounding a bottle, John?' I looked across to Stamford who grabbed hold the bottle and spun it with graceful force. It landed on Molly. "Truth or dare, Molly?" she panicked on her words and then played with her hair. "Truth." She answered quietly, I glanced over to Sherlock who was concentrating so hard on the method of the game I don't think he actually realised what was even happening, or that his tongue was sticking out of his mouth. "Okay, urm…who was your first crush here at Hampstead?" Stamford asked, taking a swig from the can he had next to him. "I…ah." She glanced to me. No, surely not? Sherlock gave a massive grin. "Do I have to?" she whined and Stamford nodded. "Fine! My first crush here was John." Sally's mouth dropped open, Stamford coughed on his cider, and Sherlock muttered something like "Obviously." under his breath. I gave a light smile to Molly and she laughed back. "Alright, I'll spin this time!" Sally intervened and took the bottle, turned it a little bit more gently than Mike. It landed on herself, we all laughed. "Alright" I said. "Truth or dare?" she looked around "Dare!" she said with her head held high. "Okay, aah…I dare you to lick Anderson's armpit." I said "Eew" she moaned, Mike sending me a look of disgust. "Well have you got anything better, Mike?" I laughed, with Sherlock looking at me as if to say 'Did I really just hear you say that, John?' "No, I don't." Stamford said and was clearly lying. We all eagerly stared at Anderson who lifted up the sleeve of his striped top and Sally was almost crying from laughter, she then quickly pressed her tongue against his armpit and quickly drew away grasping for his cider and took four large sips, we were all heaving from laughter. "My turn to spin." Molly said whilst fighting back giggles, it landed on Sherlock. The giggles stopped. "Truth or dare, Sherlock?" she asked, he looked to me for confirmation and I smiled. "Ah, urm. Truth." He said, playing with the end of his sock. "What is the most illegal thing you've done?" Anderson chuckled. "I urm" Sherlock then played with one of his curls and he looked uneasy but didn't use our code word. "I once did drugs, I guess that is considered as illegal." He said coolly. I looked at him dumbfounded. "Drugs?" Anderson coughed "I don't think Paracetamol counts, Sherlock." He laughed, we all remained silent "Don't be petulant, Anderson. I once injected a small amount of heroin." We all remained silence. "It was a while ago." He coughed, still playing with his curls. "Shall I spin it this time?" he said. "I think we should go for that walk now." I said, looking over to Sherlock. "Sounds good!" Stamford said whilst getting up and then helping Molly up. Sherlock jumped up and rearranged his shirt and offered me a hand up, I took the offer and he pulled me up. Mike opened a draw to the desk and pulled out two torches and gave one to me, I flicked it on and off to check that it worked. Anderson got a torch up on his iPhone and shone it in Stamford's face and he then swiped to punch his arm. "Right" Mike said "We'll hide in groups of three in random places over the main building, we will do rock paper scissors to see who is finding first." I pulled a sweater from my bag and pulled it over my head, I looked over to Sherlock who hadn't packed any jumpers. I pulled another from my bag and gave it to him. "Here." I said, passing him the cream cable-knit jumper. "Thanks" he pulled it over his head.

We all then quickly put our shoes on and stood in, again, a circle. We all did 'rock, paper, scissors' and Anderson and Sally lost. "We'll leave in our groups to make us look less suspicious and you count to ten minutes before you leave, alright?" Stamford ordered. "We'll go first." I insisted. "Right, off you go" Stamford said to us both.

Sherlock and I steadily ran down the corridor, I held the torch and kept it pointing towards where we were running. "I know the perfect place for us to hide." Sherlock came up alongside me and whispered in my ear. "Alright." I replied, opening the door for us both. The air outside was incredibly chilly, it seemed to nip on the end of my nose as soon as I stepped foot into the open, I turned to see Sherlock fidgeting around in my jumper and he then looked up. He looked ridiculously handsome, each one of his restraining curls were perfect and so defined and his eyes were soft and almost angelic from the faint light from my torch and the moons gentle reflection. My jumper was far too small for him, so it stretched over his shoulders and torso. My thoughts were suddenly quickly changed by the distant whispers of Mike and Sally. "Quick!" he flurried, sticking his hand out in a motion for me to grab it. I grabbed it. He dragged me into a quick run into the main building and then down some small corridors, each classroom we passed left a trail of light over the corridor from the door's window. His hand was cold and soft and it held with not too much force around my own. We stopped in a small gap at the end of a corridor near some stairs and he let go of his hand. He crouched down on the floor and patted the ground next to him and so I took seat. Our legs were stretched out in front of us almost touching the wall opposite. "So." He began. We sat in silence for a while and he drummed his hands on his legs, I wanted to tell him everything and all of my thoughts. But I couldn't, for dad. I couldn't let him down, or mum. I was in mid-thought when Sherlock put his arm around my shoulder and I then leaned into his neck. "It's okay" he soothed. "I've tried to be strong." I went on "And you are strong!" he almost laughed "But forget about it all tonight, all of it. And just enjoy this, enjoy the fun." I turned at him and gave a puzzled look. "Yes, that wasn't really me speaking then." He tenderly whispered and his eyes narrowed, I lightly punched his arm and got up, his arm sliding down my back. I looked around the corner and the corridor was completely empty. "Follow me." I said whilst dashing for the stairs. "I have a perfect place for us to hide."

We ran through the corridors for what felt like an eternity, but we reached the top corridor in full motion. We were then about to run around the corner when we saw two people the other side, I shoved Sherlock's chest and pinned him against the wall. "John? So sudden." He joked, "Shush." I raised a finger to his lips. I leaned backwards and perhaps dug my thigh into his a bit too hard. "It's Molly and Stamford." I sighed and peeked back round. "Oh my god." I said, staring directly at them. Sherlock leaned forward "Oh God." He mimicked, prodding me in the ribs. We then tried to hide our quite protruding giggles whilst watching Mike and Molly attempt a full on kiss. "Shush Sherlock! We can't giggle, they'll hear us." We carried on giggling when Sherlock held his hand over my mouth as we heard the faint whispers of Anderson and Sally. "Follow me" he whispered, tugging at the sleeve of my jumper.


	5. I never knew you were the type

Sherlock dragged me for a while till we reached a door with a faded yellow sign on the front that read "Keep Out." I glanced to Sherlock who just plainly ignored the sign and lifted part of the carpet on the floor to reveal a brass key, he then grunted. "How predictable." He opened the door and went to push it open when it didn't move, he turned to me. "Pull, Sherlock." I grabbed the handle and put my hand over his, he continuously stared at me until what I said had processed. "Oh" he coughed "of course." He went up the stairs first, giving me hand gesture, which I assumed meant 'Close the door behind you.' And after doing so, I followed him up.

The stairs we were clambering up seemed to get worse and worse and at points there were floorboards missing. At the top there was a short corridor and then a door at the end, Sherlock turned to face me. "Are you alright?" he asked, I gave a brief nod and he turned to open the door. As I followed him through, we were on the roof. I looked around the spacious rooftop and Sherlock stood steadily next to me. We could see all the house blocks, with lights on in random rooms from where people were still up or had left their bathroom lights on. We could see the playing fields and the classrooms that weren't joined to the main block, the library and hall and then in the distance there was the nearby village. It was noticeably chilly because it was a clear night and all the stars were visible. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Sherlock said, stepping out before me and making his way to the ledge. "Yes, it is." I almost whispered following him. We stood in silence for sometime, but this was quickly disturbed by Sherlock's phone ringing. He sighed heavily and pulled it from his pocket, he frowned when looking at the caller and put the phone to his ear. "What the hell do you want?"

Sherlock stayed silent whilst I took a seat on an air vent, he then started pacing around and his eyes never left the floor in front of him. I was staring at my feet and almost jumped when Sherlock said something and broke the silence. "But how has _that _got anything to do with you?" he almost spat whilst talking, throwing his free hand into the air in protest. He stood still and remained quiet, listening carefully to the voice the other side. "Tell her not to worry." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his voice. "Of course I'm fucking careful, Mycroft!" he almost shouted, I turned to look at the direction of the door and then remembered; who would hear us up here? Sherlock fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips and then pulled out a lighter and lit it contently. He took a massive drag and blew the smoke up into the air. "I said tell her don't worry. Pass me over if she's that bothered." He mumbled, his cigarette balancing from his teeth. He then stood up straight and removed the amber-lit stick from his lips. "Hello, mummy." He spoke a lot quieter now. "Of course I'm safe, why would I not be?" he stood in silence for a while and took a silent drag from his cigarette. "It's different now." He whispered. "I have a friend." He turned from me and walked away. All I heard from him walking away is "I understand what happened last time I smoked…" and that was that, all I could see was Sherlock's thin outline and the glowing Marlboro.

I got a text through from Stamford around fourteen minutes after Sherlock sulked off on the phone and I'd curled up on the floor to try and conserve my heat. 'We are still hiding, r you? STAMFORD.' I looked at the screen and tapped in 'YES' in capital letters and stared at the screen until the light dimmed. I closed my eyes and I heard Sherlock's footsteps approach me, I slightly opened my eyes and saw him crouch before me and place a hand on my shoulder. "John?" he tenderly asked and I sat up. "Hey" I smiled as he took a seat next to me. "You alright?" I questioned as our shoulders pressed together. "Mm." he sighed, folding his arms over his legs which he had brought up his chest. "You sure?" I asked. He turned his head and looked at me straight on "Don't worry, I am." I tried to give a reassuring smile. "We should get going." I then said. "Hiding up here is unfair for them! And I think we're both going to get serious colds." He nodded and stood up, giving me a hand to stand and then took the torch from me and flicked it on. "Come on, you." I thumped his arm and walked over to the door, he was soon in fast pursuit.

We managed to find our way into an appropriately well hidden hiding spot and had remained there for a while until we heard the unmistakable giggles of Molly, Stamford, Anderson and Sally and so we got up and went to find them.

We walked around the corner and saw them all stand in a circle and then turn to face us. "Where were you guys hiding?" Stamford asked. "It must've been a fucking decent hiding place because we didn't see you anywhere." Anderson politely chimed in. I went to answer, but before I could Sherlock did "I have my places." He grinned. "I'm not sure about you guys" Molly said and paused to yawn. "but I'm shattered." She rested her head on Stamford. "It's only just passed midnight!" Anderson whined. "But if we get good sleep tonight, we can stay up longer tomorrow." I said, everybody nodded in agreement and so we made our way back to the room.

On our way back Sherlock and I called into room 21 and collected our duvets and then returned to our sleepover. We walked in the room to Molly and Stamford both, again, sat crossed legged on his bed an Sally and Anderson curled up on the other, all in their pajamas. "Go into the bathroom and get changed." I said to Sherlock. "I'll sort out your bedding." He nodded and picked up his kit bag and walked into the bathroom. I lovingly spread out a quite enormous thin blanket on the floor between the desk and the wardrobe the opposite side and then put out our two duvets side by side. I then threw our pillows to the ground and sat on Stamford's bed whilst he told Molly and myself jokes.

A few moments later Sherlock came back out of the bathroom in a striped pair of pajama bottoms and my knitted jumper. He threw his kitbag near our neatly placed shoes and passed me my own bag. "Thanks." I said politely whilst getting up and making my own way to the bathroom.

When I returned, Sherlock had lead down under his duvet and was grinning incredibly hard at something. "What are you laughing at?" I asked whilst placing my own bag next to his and then scooting under my own duvet. "Just something Mike said." He replied and I tried to reply with a face of complete surprise. "I was telling him about that evening in the hotel on our football trip two years ago." I sat, like Sherlock, with my back against the desk. We were both millimeters apart and had our duvets pulled up to our chins, the school really should invest in thicker ones for winter. "Oh God." I sighed. "The story about that girl?" I asked, Sherlock and Stamford both answered 'Yes' at the same time. I threw my duvet over my head. "He was so sold with the idea she loved him!" Mike laughed. "But she turned out to be into me instead..." I threw an empty bottle in Stamford's direction. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." I replied. "Can we sleep now?" Molly pleaded. "Sure." Mike leaned over and turned out the light and we all wished each other a good night.

I lead on my side and faced Sherlock and he faced me also, it was very unlikely that everyone was going to sleep straight away, anyway. He remained staring at me, clutching his duvet up to his cheekbones. "John." He tried to whisper, but his deep baritone voice just vibrated straight through me. "John, I'm shivering." I poked my hand from under my duvet and pulled slightly at Sherlock's duvet, he carefully snuck out a hand and I felt his skin. "Jesus, you are cold..." I whispered and wrapped his hand under mine. I stared at him for a while and then sat up, I glanced to Sally and Anderson who were thankfully hiding under their covers and then Molly and Stamford who were playing with each others hair. I raised a finger to my lips to silence Sherlock and moved my pillow up next to his. He then poked his whole head out and gave me a puzzled and inquisitive look. I shuffled my ass over the floor and put half my duvet over him and slid in under his duvet. I felt his leg gently lean against mine, his arm folded back and was slyly resting against mine. His curls were resting slightly on my pillow and were just slightly tickling my face, I then sighed. Carefully moving my hand, I went to Sherlock's neck and tickled him slightly, he responded straight away with flailing his arms about in the air. "Shushhush!" I sniggered, Sherlock was sat bolt up right and was staring at me, one arm propping his weight and the other arm itching his scalp. "John Watson" he whispered, leaning forward. "I never knew you were the type." I sat up. "I'm...sorry?" I said slowly and he returned a very weak but warming smile. I leaned forward and moved one of his long curls from his eyesight and tucked it behind his ear. "Goodnight, Sherlock." I whispered and returned to my slumber, he tucked himself next to me. "Sleep well, John."


	6. How does lunch on you sound?

I woke at around three AM with Sherlock poking my waist. I opened my eyes slightly and just lead there trying to decipher how we were even lying down. My right leg was sprawled over his left leg and was touching quite up his thigh, and, half of his upper body weight was resting on my shoulder. My left arm was reaching over and just touching my jumper that he was wearing. "Hnhh…" I groaned and shifted his body from mine and then unfolded my own leg and released his own. "Thnks" he muffled into my t-shirt and I looked down to his face. His eyes were delicately shut and as he breathed out he made a little humming sound. I looked down to his lips and noticed they were partially open an-"SHERLOCK!" I jilted in the bed, he quickly opened his eyes; all the innocence left his face. "What?" he moaned, looking around us to try and deduce the answer to my anger, I pointed to the shoulder of my shirt. "You've dribbled all over my ruddy shirt!" I said at a harsh whisper. "Oh gosh, sorry your majesty." He grumbled and flopped back down on his side of the bed. I sighed and pulled at the wet, sticky patch on my arm. I lifted the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, tossing it across the room. I could feel Sherlock's eyes prying me and reading my body. I flopped down on my side of the bed and let the duvet lie just above my pajama bottoms. "John." Sherlock began "Shh, Sherlock, you don't want to wake the others and have me explain why I'm currently half-fucking-naked." I turned to face him. "What is it?" I asked and he turned his head, but not the rest of his body. "Never mind, get back to sleep." He whispered, grabbing the duvet that was dangerously close to my 'gentleman's region' and pulled it over my head, he then started chuckling and rolled over to his other side. "Insufferable git." I muttered.

We woke at half six by the repetitive and forgotten alarm bell that belonged to the infuriating and idiotic Anderson. We all groaned in unison as the ringing sound flooded our ears, I was lying on my stomach and facing Sherlock; his pinky just touching mine as our hands lead out in front of us. He hadn't woken from the drill, the lucky sod. But then his eyes slowly opened from the commotion that had just kicked off in the room, he smiled gently. "Sorry guys." Anderson moaned, stepping in and out of our legs to get to the bathroom and wearing little clothing. He left the door slightly open so we all got the poignant smell of piss and the sound of Anderson sighing, "I'll go get breakfast for you all." He shouted. "As long as you wash your hands first." I replied. I heard the tap go and him walk back into the room. "Sporting the no shirt like me, 'eh Watson?" he nudged my foot and I quickly snatched my hand from Sherlock's. "Ah yes, I went to the toilet in the night and got water all down my shirt." I hesitated, but it seemed the perfect reason for me. "Oh." He grunted, clambering back into bed next to Sally, whom was tapping away on her BlackBerry. I then heard the slight yawn from Molly "Did you boys sleep alright down there?" she asked quietly. "Apart from John's mishap in the night, yes." Sherlock replied, crawling from under his duvet. His hair was messy and pointed at every angle.

There was then a knock at the door, I stood and told Sherlock "Not to worry" in a sarcastic voice and opened it "Good morn- oh, John!" "M's Hudson." I coughed, closing the door slightly behind me. I could feel myself blush from my lack of clothing and the sound of Sally and Molly rush into the bathroom behind me. "I heard an alarm and just wanted to check up on you all, that's it." She smiled. "Breakfast is served at half seven, boys!" she called louder so the others could hear, they all grunted and she let out a small giggle. "See you." I replied and rushed back into the room. "Oh, John!" Stamford stood on his bed and mimicked Mrs Hudson's voice. "Why, what a lovely body you have John." He then repeated in the same voice. "Fuck off, Mike!" I laughed whilst throwing myself onto my bedding. "And shut up, I'm going back to sleep."

At around half seven, I was greeted by a plate with two croissants and four miniature pots of jam. I sat up next to Sherlock whom, like me, was faced by a plate of the French food. "Thanks, Anderson." I said as he made is way across the room to pass the other plates around. "It's alright, I was first there as well." I looked over to Sherlock who was picking pieces and lovingly placing them in his mouth. I offered him jam and he dipped a piece of croissant in and got the smallest amount of the strawberry conserve and ate it with a look of disgust on his face. I took some of the jam on my finger and wiped it on his nose, huffing to myself. "So what are we doing today?" Sally asked whilst taking a sip from her coffee "We could go into the village?" Mike replied and he then took a very satisfying bite from his bacon sandwich. We all agreed, but didn't speak out loud because we were all tucking into our food. Sherlock's knee was just brushing me as we sat crossed legged on the floor "That reminds me" he started, crumbs dropping from his mouth; he wiped them away with the back of his hand "I need to get some things in town." I nodded "Do you need anything?" he started, now speaking with his mouth empty "I can take care of myself, Sherlock." I laughed it off. "I know, but I've been given more money this month and have nothing better to do with it." He took another mouthful of his croissant "How does lunch on you sound, then?" I smiled. "That sounds good." He replied.

After us all getting changed and sneaking Molly and Sally from the dorm rooms, we were well on our way to the village. The route was simple, straight down the main road and then to your left. We passed numerous shops where Stamford and Anderson bought some energy drinks, and chose to take the slightly longer route through the woods. The light was fresh and it seemed to enlighten the dead leaves on the floor. I looked at my shoes and then Sherlock's, the material on mine was slightly faded and dyed from mud but his looked new, clean and were of a very expensive brand. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, which almost encouraged his look of looking like a warmed up corpse, and was wearing a tightly fitting pale blue shirt under his long trench coat, whilst I sported the slightly baggy-skinny jeans, purple cardigan and some old t-shirt.

We arrived at a small ditch. Stamford went first and then helped Molly over. Anderson went next with Sally balanced on his back. I stepped a few paces back and vaulted the ditch, slightly falling forward landing the other side. I brushed the thorns from my hand and offered Sherlock a hand, he hesitated slowly and held his hand and grabbed mine. He propelled himself forward, forcing himself straight into me. We collapsed in a heap on the floor, him pinning me against decaying twigs and leaves and mud. Everyone heaved a chorus of laughter, Mike then giving Sherlock a hand up and he quickly left from pinning me to kneeling to my side. "John, I'm so sorry. Are you hurt? Is your leg alright?" he pestered and waved his hands around in the air. "No, no. I'm fine, Sherlock." I smiled, but then moving my pelvis I cringed "I think you kneed me quite thoroughly though, mate." I forced my weight on my hands and pulled myself up and brushed myself down. Everyone else had started walking on as Sherlock turned to face me, the light was defining every hair on his head and he was almost glowing. His skin was soft, warm, and almost angelic. His eyes were almond shaped an- no, John. Remember Dad. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly. "Yes" I replied in almost a whisper "I am okay."

We arrived in the village centre not long after that, we were standing around in the music store when Stamford held up a DVD in the air "I declare we buy and watch this movie this evening!" I looked at the cover and recognized the horror film. "And after" he spoke in a harsh tone "we go walking." Anderson's face lit up, I looked to Sherlock who was trying to decipher the film and why he'd suggest such thing. "It's a horror, Sherlock." I told him as we walked over to pay for the movie "We watch it, get scared shitless, and then go walking and shit ourselves some more." I smirked and he looked at me blankly. "I see…" he replied. "What's the time?" he asked, I checked my phone and then quickly replied "It's coming up to twelve o'clock." "Want to go for lunch soon?" he replied "Sure." I then said afterwards as the others approached. "Sherlock and I are gunna' go off on our own for an hour or so." I said awkwardly whilst placing my hands in my pockets. "Ah…okay." Mike shifted from one foot to another. "We're going to get some food for a picnic and go piss about in the woods for a while, text me when you guys are done?" "Yeah, sure." I replied. "See you guys later." I smiled whilst then walking off in the other direction just behind Sherlock, their chorus' of 'See you' faded while we turned a corner.

Sherlock guided me around the small streets until we approached a rather posh looking pub. Well, I called it a pub until I said 'What a lovely looking pub' and was traded with an incredibly icy stare from Sherlock himself. We arrived inside and the waiter instantly walked up to Sherlock and placed a hand on his shoulder "Hey, Sherlock!" he bounced around on his feet. "Hi" Sherlock returned. "Come on, sit down! I have you two the best table." The man almost dragged us to a neatly prepared table facing a window, we both removed our coats and the waiter graciously took them and walked off. A few moments later, a man approached us both. His hands were in his pockets and he was wearing a suit, but one almost like a teacher would wear. His eyes were creased from him smiling and his hair was almost fifty shades of grey. "Hello, Sherly." The man winked "What did I say about you calling me that?" Sherlock replied and didn't even face to turn the man. "I'm sorry, your brother told me to do it." The man replied as I sat awkwardly facing the two. "Oh, it's always him isn't it." Sherlock now turned to face him. "The usual please, Lestrade." Sherlock spoke with no tone. "And John will have the…" "Pasta, please. The tagliatelle with the creamy sauce, thank you." I closed my menu up and passed it to 'Lestrade', he gave a quick smile and walked off behind two doors. "Who was that?" I turned to Sherlock, keeping my voice low and pointing to the door. "Ah, urm. That's a friend of my brothers. Well, I say friend…" he looked uneasy when replying. "Oh, okay. Does he own this place?" I tried to change the conversation from his brother. "Urm, yup. This is his 'hobby' I guess. Family business, he works with the police force most the time. Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom." Sherlock got up and pushed his chair in after him, quickly dodging in and out of tables on route to the toilets the other side of the room.

Half an hour later, Sherlock and I were sat eating silently the food we were given. It certainly was no pub grub. "So" I began whilst twisting some pasta around my fork. "are you enjoying this sleepover so far?" I looked up when finishing my sentence whilst Sherlock then emptied his mouth and took a sip from his glass. "I guess so. I'm learning quite a lot about normal teenager behavior...and I assume I could now class them as 'friends'" Sherlock took a bite from his food and looked almost sad. "Have you..." I coughed "had many friends before?" I asked, taking a sip of my own drink to hide my embarrassment of asking that. "Once." He began. "But we're no longer close. If you were to ask him what he is to me, he'd probably say an 'arch enemy'" I quickly placed my glass down and attempted an almost sympathetic look. "Don't be petulant, John." He gave an almost sarcastic smirk. "What about girlfriends...?" I asked. "John, I just told you I've had one friend previously to you in my life, and he was male, how many girlfriends do you think that I have had?" I shifted in my seat and he leaned back and rested his hands on his head. "That's what I thought." I looked up from my plate. "What about boyfriends?" I replied.


	7. I owe him an apology

We sat in silence for a moment, I instantly regretted saying what I did because I don't even want a relationship...not with a boy. I put my hands on the table and stood. "I've got to go." I quickly said "I have made you upset, no. Awkward. I am so, so sorry Sherlock. Thanks for lunch." I shimmied my cardigan on and looked at Sherlock, his eyes almost like a puppy. He was confused, vulnerable yet completely aware. I started to walk when I heard an incredibly ear deafening smash of a plate. I turned to see Sherlock stood at the table with his plate on the floor. "What was that for?" I questioned, walking up to him pointing at the mess on the floor. "And what was that for, John? Asking a question, thinking you know the answer, and then sulking off?" His voice was raised, almost shouting. I stood back and shook my head from side to side. "There was no need for that." I ordered. "And was there any need for you trying to guess what I feel?" He almost whispered. "Then what do you feel?" I replied.

We stood in silence after I said that for what felt like a painstakingly long time but we were then cut short by Lestrade walking in shouting "What the hell do you guys think you are doing?" He walked up to us and then stopped at the plate of food on the floor. "You are so lucky there aren't anybody else in here." He now sounded disappointed. "We are sorry." I replied, looking down at my feet. "Damn right you are." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his cheek and then through his hair. "Right." He began "You guys go away now, you've caused enough damage for one day." Lestrade walked over to behind the main desk and brought us out our coats, we took them in silence and I thanked him for the meal. As we left, I saw Sherlock turn and scowl as Lestrade was speaking on his mobile. "I can't go fucking anywhere." He then said at a harsh whisper.

When we got outside, the parky winter air hit us like a brick in the face. Sherlock raised the collar of his coat and stared ahead, not saying anything. I took out my phone from my pocket and text Mike. "We are on our way – JW". It was less than ten minutes of complete silence till I got a reply "Ok, usual spot." I put my phone back in my pocket and we both carried on in silence till we reached the entrance to the woods.

Just as I was about to place my hand on the fence to climb over the barbed wire fence, Sherlock stopped me by grabbing my wrist and then saying "I am sorry for earlier." He looked at my face for a second and then turned to the ground, removing his hand from around mine. "I reacted wrongly. I am sorry." He sighed, flattening his coat collar. "Don't apologise." I began, putting my hands in my pockets to stop myself from looking any more awkward. "I was completely in the wrong." I trailed off, his eyes were lowered and he looked almost…sad. All life drained from him. I put my hands on his shoulders and weakly smiled, pulling him then into a hug. He placed his hands on my waist and he almost felt full of life again. "I am sorry." I spoke into his neck. "It's alright." He replied. I then noticed how awfully uncomfortable this position was. I was practically on my tiptoes, leaning completely into my roommate with my arms locked around his neck. I slowly pulled out of the embrace and nodded to the fence. "Want help getting over?" I asked, leaning against the wooden post. "Please." He replied.

After helping Sherlock awkwardly climb over the fence, with somehow getting kicked in the face, we were well on our way through the woods to meeting the rest of our posy. It was now getting darker and much colder, Sherlock being the skeleton and idiot that he is didn't put any extra jumpers on. "You're a berk, you do realise." I said whilst concentrating on not putting my foot in a rabbit hole. "And yet you still talk to me." Sherlock replied playfully, bending over to pick up a stick. I walked on a bit further "Well, I kinda have no choice as you're a lonely bastard." I said back, and got no reply so I turned around "Sherlo-" I was cut off by a group of twigs being thrown at my face, I stepped backwards and tripped on a log, landing straight on my backside. "You little shit!" I shouted, spitting out pieces of mud. "You 'kinda' asked for it." Sherlock replied, enhancing 'kinda' to mimic myself. He walked over with the biggest smile on his face and grabbed my arm to pull me up. "Thanks." I huffed. We heard the distant shrieks of Sally and then the almost 'roar' of Anderson. "In that direction, then." I muttered, starting to walk on. As I went to, I felt a sudden prang of coldness on my hand, I turned and saw Sherlock holding it. I stared at him unknowingly and he stared back, not blinking once. I opened my hand and kept it touching his, he got the message and entwined his fingers in my own. I gave him a gentle smile, and we stayed close together and gently holding each other's hands until we were in viewing distance of our friends.

After helping Sherlock awkwardly climb over the fence, with somehow getting kicked in the face, we were well on our way through the woods to meeting the rest of our posy. It was now getting darker and much colder, Sherlock being the skeleton and idiot that he is didn't put any extra jumpers on. "You're a berk, you do realise." I said whilst concentrating on not putting my foot in a rabbit hole. "And yet you still talk to me." Sherlock replied playfully, bending over to pick up a stick. I walked on a bit further "Well, I kinda have no choice as you're a lonely bastard." I said back, and got no reply so I turned around "Sherlo-" I was cut off by a group of twigs being thrown at my face, I stepped backwards and tripped on a log, landing straight on my backside. "You little shit!" I shouted, spitting out pieces of mud. "You 'kinda' asked for it." Sherlock replied, enhancing 'kinda' to mimic myself. He walked over with the biggest smile on his face and grabbed my arm to pull me up. "Thanks." I huffed. We heard the distant shrieks of Sally and then the almost 'roar' of Anderson. "In that direction, then." I muttered, starting to walk on. As I went to, I felt a sudden prang of coldness on my hand, I turned and saw Sherlock holding it. I stared at him unknowingly and he stared back, not blinking once. I opened my hand and kept it touching his, he got the message and entwined his fingers in my own. I gave him a gentle smile, and we stayed close together, gently holding each others hands until we were in viewing distance of our friends.

When we arrived we saw them all sitting down among the damp leaves and just lazing about. The shrieking had long died down and now Mike and Stamford were discussing football as Sally and Molly were discussing hair and plaiting each others. As we joined the group, Mike turned to face us. "About time!" He almost shouted, standing up and slapping my back. "We're thinking of heading our way back to our room now." I went to speak, but after not talking for a while I awkwardly coughed. "Yeah." I stuttered "that's cool." We started walking in our little formation of Stamford and Mike, Molly and Sally and then Sherlock and myself.

Sherlock and I didn't talk much at all for the first leg of the journey. All I could think about was his hand around mine and 'what on earth would dad say?'. But then I never really listened to Dad's rules when he was with me. If he really enjoyed me as a son, then he wouldn't want me unhappy. All the pain and grief was his fault. All the booze and reckless behavior was him, and him only. Him being gone is his own fault, and now I want to relish the happiness that the loss brings. Before I went on to think some more, I blinked back into reality. I was bent over with my hands on my knees and breathing heavily, my fists curled into balls. I was surrounded, but at a respectful distance, of my friends. One was rubbing my back and soothing me, I looked up to see a very concerned Molly. "Thanks, er." I straightened back up and stretched my leg, Molly gave me a worried but gently warm smile and she joined Sally's side, Mike nodded his head and walked on with Anderson; followed by the girls. I stood for a moment and just looked ahead, I turned to face Sherlock and smiled weakly. He put a hand on my shoulder and we started to walk.

After a while, we were approaching the school gates. Sherlock's hand had moved from my shoulder and the back of it was gently rubbing against the back of mine, we kept the contact discrete. We spoke a bit but we both enjoyed the tranquility of the silence.

I'm still unaware of Sherlock's feelings. He might just be one of those friends which physical contact is something that is meant to be within a friendship. I've never heard him talk of a crush or a celebrity that he likes, he's never told me anything incredibly personal about himself at all...but everything I do know, regardless of how tiny it is, makes me realise the importance of this ridiculous human being that everyone seems to hate. He has kept me sane and weakened my pain.

Before I knew it, we were all creeping back into the room we all left a few hours earlier. Somehow, Mike had managed to speak to Mrs Hudson and borrow one of the unused TV's that were stored on the ground floor; and so he and Anderson carried it up and put it on Mike's desk. I moved Sherlock's and my bed across the floor and left them close together so we could lean against the wardrobe instead. Stamford gathered food by rummaging through one of the draws and pulling out all the sweets and drinks we didn't drink before and placing them in the pile of things he'd bought that day.

Around one hour later, we were all sat in the dark watching the horror. Mike and Molly in Stamford's bed, Sally and Anderson in Anderson's, and Sherlock and I were in our beds on the floor. The movie was predictable and I'd seen it plenty of times before, but I kept glancing to Sherlock beside me to see how he was reacting. I could feel him jump slightly every now and again as he jolted my whole body as he rested against me. Our duvets were, again, pulled to our chins because of the lack of heating. I turned to face Sherlock who was almost shivering and was so absorbed in trying not to jump at scary moments that he kept forgetting to. I slid my hand gently from my duvet and under his and took his hand. He turned to me quickly and then smiled, we put our hands down between us under the duvet and loosely kept them together. No one would notice anyway, it's far too dark. And then when a frightening moment would come or when one has just been, I'd trace circles on Sherlock's hand with my thumb and pass him some food that he, at first, threw across the room in protest because of the evening before but then accepted my trust and happily obliged to the sweets.

When the film had finished, Molly was completely under the covers as Sally and Anderson were left cackling at the ending. Stamford bounded across the room and flicked the main light on; I quickly removed my hand from Sherlock's and threw my covers from my neck. "Well that was shit." I muttered whilst allowing the top half of my body to fall from Sherlock and onto the carpet the other side. "That was not shit." Molly revealed her face from the under the duvet "I don't think I'll be able to sleep again." I laughed gently and moved my foot so it was resting against my roommates. "Well you certainly won't be sleeping tonight." Mikes laughed, Anderson then breaking from a 'heated' kiss, with Sally, and then shouting "That's what she said." "That doesn't even make sense!" I replied whilst rolling myself up in my duvet and standing to hobble across the room and jump on Mike, but before I could; he pushed my shoulders and I stumbled onto Sally and Anderson who were snogging intently till I crushed them both. "Christ, John!" Sally moaned and then laughed, shoving my side so I fell off the end of the bed and then back next to Sherlock. "Hello, again." I said calmly whilst lying there looking like a sausage roll. Sherlock sat up on his knees and stared at my face, he glanced up to look at the rest of my friends who were all now in deep conversation. "Hello." He breathed quietly whilst staring at my mouth. His hair was falling from his head and was almost touching my face. His shirt's sleeves were rolled up and were resting against his thighs and he leant down and put his lips close to mine. They weren't touching, but we were close enough to feel each-others breath. He pulled away and smiled at me and then turned to face Mike. "Shall we be off for our walk, now?"

We'd been walking for a while now. It was dark and cold, but we were all still marching out over the field in the direction of the start of the woods. Sherlock stayed to my left and the others all to my right. We laughed and joked about kids in our classes and what homework we have and should've been doing over the weekend so far. After reaching the edge of the thick, dark and damp woods we turned back to make sure we weren't being followed and Mike gave us a briefing. "Stay between the goal posts to our right and the fence to our left. And don't go as far as the wooden post at the end." He finished, throwing me a torch and gently passing Molly his. "Normal groups?" Anderson spoke, his whining voice echoed the air. "Yes." Stamford put an arm around Molly. "Watson, you two go first." I turned to Sherlock who was staring blankly at the floor, he titled up his neck and smiled back at me. "Come on, you." I nudged his hand and so we started to make our way through the trees and brambles.

We reached a corner of the boundary and I leant against the post. The tiny glimpse of sunlight and the moon left an eerie tint of blue to the bleak woods. The trees stood bare without any leaves, and as we both breathed; the parky air left a mist around our mouths. Sherlock jolted his head up as the sound of people walking and whispering disappeared. "About earlier." He threw himself to me and placed a hand on the fence to lean against and he pressed his body almost against mine. I looked from his eyes and then his lips. "No." I said sharply. "No!" I raised my voice and pushed him away. "I...can't." I spat. He looked at me and blinked three times. "John." He began. "You want this, tell me you want it." He ended. "I've barely known you a week and now you're wanting to shove your tongue down my throat? Nicely played, really. I applaud you." I said sarcastically whilst throwing my arms in the air. He went to open his mouth but abruptly closed it. I turned around to stare at him. "You know why." I barely even whispered. "But he's gone now, John. He's from your life." Sherlock almost pleaded. "But he was still my dad." I sighed into my hands whilst sitting at the trunk of the tree. "I don't want anything like that, okay?!" I shouted. "John-" "Just get lost." I said coldly. A few moments later, I saw Sherlock turn and walk away.

I'd been sat within the leaves for a while, I completely lost track of time and I had blocked out all sounds. I felt my heart jump and so I slowly led down amongst the leaves to try and hide my snuffling nose. I wiped my nose with the sleeve of my jumper, it smelt faintly of my roommate. My ridiculously handsome and petulant roommate. I dragged my knees to my chest and pressed my face between my thighs and silently sobbed. It was getting later and colder, and the silence grew heavier and more daunting. But I was in no state of caring for any of that. I could feel every goose-bump appear over my body and I clenched my fists up and covered both eyes with them, gently rocking to try and sooth the pain from inside. It didn't help. I had no idea how long I'd be there, or how long until someone found me. But being alone is a greater pain than any physical pain that I could ever fathom, and I was desperately hoping that Sherlock would soon return. I owe him an apology.


	8. You are sometimes so delusional

I felt my stomach cramp and then my head spin. I flicked my eyes open and dragged myself up using the tree and I leant against it breathing heavily. My eyes balanced out and I made out my shaking, pale hands. My vision suddenly blurred again and I heaved from the shock, my back arched and I felt myself nearly be sick, but I just spat saliva out instead. I groaned lightly and rubbed my face with the cool palm of my hand. "Fuuuc-" I winced whilst moving to lean against the next tree. I heard the distant laugh belonging to Stamford, followed by a dubious howl from Anderson. I hope they don't find me like this here...it's probably best they find me back at the dorm, there won't be any fuss then...

It'd been no more than twenty minutes later when I found myself at the foot of the stone stairs leading to the grounds of our dorm house. I let myself hang against the railing and I rubbed my leg and then reached into my pocket for my phone. 'Meet me back at the room - Watson', I sent the message to Stamford and stuffed my mobile into my pocket. I sighed again and reached back into my pocket for my phone and went through my contacts, I scrolled to Sherlock's name and hovered over it. I hesitated slightly but pressed 'dial'. It rang for a few moments and I let myself fall onto the step, the phone rang three times till I heard the mobile the other end get picked up.

"Hello." His voice almost echoed…he sounded different over the phone.  
"Sherlock..." I almost whispered. "Sherlock, I need to see you." I rested my head against the iron pole. "Are you okay, John? You sound upset." Sherlock seemed panicked now and I could hear branches snapping under his feet. "Yes. I mean...no. I was sick, I feel so bad...I need to see you." "Where are you? Tell me where you are." "I'm at the stairs leading to our dorm..." I replied softly. "Alright, stay there..." He almost snapped, but kept it almost friendly. The phone the hung up and I saw Mike's name flash across the screen, I opened the message and read 'Ok mate, c you back there in hour or so.' I lead back against the step and allowed the cold air to cover me like a sheet, and stared up at the sky. All I could think of was the night before, when Sherlock and I were on the rooftop...and look at us now, twenty-four hours later.

When Sherlock had arrived, we exchanged a quick smile and he looked me over quickly. I was shivering quite furiously and so he put his arm under my shoulder and heaved me up. He is frail, so how he held all my weight I don't know. I had put on a lot on in hospital. He dragged me back up to outside Stamford and Anderson's room and we were both sat side by side against the wall and opposite a radiator, and he'd wrapped his large coat around my shoulders and his hands were resting on his lap; looking almost like a child remising bad actions in class. "Sherlock..." I began and he then jumped so much I swear I saw him leave the floor. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry for earlier..." I continued staring at the floor opposite and he remained silent. "I was wrong...so wrong..." I started. "And I treated you like a kid." I then finished whilst looking the other way to Sherlock and glancing down to the rest of the corridor. "It is fine." He almost whispered. "I was the one in the wrong. You don't want it and I get that. And I am sorry." His hands fidgeted in his lap. "No..." I whispered softly "Sherlock, no." I turned to face him. I went to open my mouth but closed it straight after, he remained staring at wall opposite, his eyes not blinking once. I looked at his hands and took my own from holding his coat together around my chest, and slipped it between his. I intertwined his left hand with my right and neither of us spoke for a while. "You asked me yesterday..." Sherlock began "about boyfriends." I felt my heart's pace rise. "I have never had one..." He said softly and turned his head to face me "but that doesn't mean I wouldn't date one." I felt our palms go sweaty, or at least mine did as Sherlock's remained ice cold. But I glanced at him slightly and saw warmth to his pale face and his eyes were gentle and were still resting on me. I coughed lightly and put my head gently on his shoulder, drawing my knees to my chest; I folded them over and rested them against his thighs. I closed my eyes and my breathing calmed down. Sherlock had his hand at the joint of my knee and was keeping my legs on his, his breathing leveling out with mine.

I was awoken what felt like not long later. I yawned and unfolded myself from Sherlock who was sitting dead still and I looked up and around us and stretched my arms in the air. "Oh shi..." I whispered whilst staring up at Molly, Mike, Stamford and Sally as they were all circling us both. I quickly pushed myself up from the floor and brushed down my jeans "Sherlock, get up." I kicked his elbow and he quickly obeyed, he stood awkwardly.

"Right then..." Mike started and opened the door to his and Stamford's room. "Perhaps we should be getting back to ours..." Sherlock said anxiously.

I went to reply but Molly cut in "No!" She flustered "there's no need for that...we" she coughed "we don't mind." Sally smiled slightly and looked over to Anderson with what looked like a face of disgust. "Perhaps we should be going." I said snappily, looking between Anderson and Sally. "Come in, guys." Mike appeared at the door and ushered for us to go in. "We're not if they are." Anderson squeaked and Stamford looked at Sherlock and myself, and then to Anderson. "No..." He ordered. "No, you guys can piss off." He then almost shouted. "Go to Sally and Moll's room, we don't want you here." "Don't shout, Mike. We'll get caught." I looked over to him. "Yeah...well, come in." He moved out of the entrance to the door and I gave a look to Sherlock and we both walked in, I turned to make sure Molly was following; and she was. "And you two" Mike jabbed a finger in the air at the couple standing in the doorway "can fuck off."

Mike slammed the door with them standing the other side, and then turned to face us. "Thank you..." I said cautiously. "Mate, it's alright." He smiled whilst turning to his desk and taking something from the draw and then throwing me over an energy drink. "Anderson won't mind." He said jokingly. "Sod him." I replied, whilst opening the can and then taking a huge sip. We stood in an awkward silence for a moment and then Mike jumped onto his bed, patting next to him for Molly. "You guys can" he coughed "have Anderson's bed, if you want." I turned to Sherlock and saw a look of total disgust. "If I want to risk the possibility of John and myself catching an STD in that pit…" Sherlock trailed, I thumped his arm and laughed. "We're alright on the floor thanks mate." I sighed whilst turning to Sherlock who smiled gently and sat down at the end of his make-shift bed on the floor; pulling his duvet to his chest, I looked at him briefly and sat opposite him.

Sherlock and I sat in silence for a while until I offered him my energy drink and he scowled at it "Try some!" I offered it again and he slowly took the can from my hand and placed it to his lips. He looked up to me and took the tiniest sip. "Aagg..." He cringed and shook himself, passing the can to me in the process. "Stop feeding me rubbish." He sighed, rolling his eyes and putting both his hands on his knees. "I...ah, might need your help." He lowered his voice and shuffled himself closer to me. "Oh...really?" I tried to silence my giggles. "Yes...my brother is asking me to help him with his work and I have to, really, to keep mummy happy..." I immediately sunk and I think he noticed my smile drop. "What's wrong? You don't have to..." "No, it isn't that. I just thought you were going to say something else...but I'd happily help you." Sherlock leaned backwards and I could see him flipping back through our conversation. "No..." He started. "I don't know where you thought I was going." "For such a clever boy, you are sometimes so delusional." I leaned forward slightly and turned to check Molly and Stamford were not looking; they were busy watching something on Mike's mobile. "How's about I show you what I mean?" I whispered. Sherlock went to say something but closed his mouth and nodded. I put my hand to his jaw line and the other was to his side because I was leaning on my knees. I closed the gap slowly between us and our eyes didn't leave each other's. My hand remained gently on his jaw and I hesitated when leaning in, and slowly he pushed himself up and our lips were locked. He didn't move from there, but he just mimicked my hand and placed his on my jaw. We were awkwardly sat and our lips weren't moving, but I closed my eyes and embraced his warmth. He didn't move and kept just touching my face. I pulled away, rocking back and leaning against the wardrobe as I sat back on my heels. Sherlock was panting slightly and then fidgeted to rearrange his trousers. "Ready to sleep?" I asked whilst getting up to check the time. "It's almost half eleven and we have some homework to do tomorrow." I walked back over and climbed back into my bed. I pulled the duvet to my waist and shimmied my jeans off and threw them to the end of the bed. "Goodnight, you two." I shouted to Molly and Stamford, Stamford grunted to wish me 'goodnight', which I laughed at, and Molly replied to me with a "Goodnight John! And you too, Sherlock." I turned to face my friend and he was already folding his trousers up and placing them beside his bed "Goodnight, Molly." He replied almost awkwardly whilst pulling his blanket to his chin and facing me when lying in his bed. "Goodnight, Sherlock." I whispered. "Goodnight, John." He replied softly.


	9. Students pried at us

We woke up similarly to how we did the morning before, but there was no irritating alarm forcing us to wake up, or a Sherlock Holmes dribbling on my shoulder. It was eight in the morning and Molly and Stamford were still asleep. "Want to go get breakfast?" Sherlock mumbled whilst lying on his stomach and drawing his knees to his chest, sticking half his body into the air, and burrowing his face and protruding curls into his pillow. "Yeah, sure." I replied whilst getting up and crossing the room. Instead of putting my jeans on, I rummaged in my kit bag and put on my pajama bottoms. "C'mon you, get up." I nudged Sherlock's foot. He slowly stood up and his duvet fell off his body. Sherlock then stretched his arms up and yawned. His shirt was creased and lifted as he sighed, revealing his skinny yet toned stomach and pelvis. I resisted the urge to map out every mole on his chest with my mouth and shuddered at the thought. "Here." I threw Sherlock his trousers "Best you put those on." I coughed lightly.

We arrived at the cafe after I managed to convince Sherlock to skip down the corridor with me in our pajamas. He sort of shuffled his feet along the floor whilst I poked and prodded his back until he picked up speed.

We soon reached the café. "Go sit down, I'll get us some food." I told Sherlock, him then taking a seat away from others and near the entrance.

I was walking back with a tray of toast, tea, and I selection of jams when Sherlock stood suddenly and ran out of the double doors. "Sherlock?!" I called after him whilst placing the tray on our table and then setting off to jog after him. I walked out into the corridor to see two police officers, one turned and walked down the corridor, and the other standing next to a very tired looking Lestrade. "What's happened?" Sherlock's tone had changed compared to ten minutes ago when we were hurling ourselves down the corridor. It was stern, cold, and forceful. "We have some information, but not any that we'd like to discuss...here." He stalled and moved to the side of the space to let a student pass. "Can I have a look? Just for two minutes, I'll pick up on things that your boys will miss." Lestrade stood back and sighed. "Fine... But just two minutes and you explain to me everything, okay?" "Sure." Sherlock replied. "Alright, come on." Lestrade made a motion with his hand. Just before Sherlock went to walk with him, I grabbed his arm. "What is going on?" I asked. "Someone has died. And this is all a bit premature, so keep it down." He snapped whilst starting to catch up with Lestrade, I kept close beside him. "And you're just allowed to strut around a crime scene?" I asked, trying to make the situation seem funny. "This isn't the first time, and I've managed to capture them a wanted drug smuggler." "Oh...okay." I replied under my breath.

We reached outside and walked up to the dorm house belonging to the male third years. Lestrade lifted the police tape for Sherlock and then he lifted it for me. "The block has been emptied and all residents are temporarily staying in the main hall. We'll be interviewing later on today..." It seemed like Lestrade was talking to himself, but Sherlock was hanging on to every word he spoke.

We were lead into one room and told to put on what looked like plastic boiler suits. I was very surprised when Sherlock's friend didn't turn around and ask what I was doing there, but Sherlock read my facial expression and answered with "My brother keeps a close eye on me. And as I don't often have friends, he keeps surveillance on you as well as me. He's told Lestrade all about you, John." I went to answer, because who the hell keeps a watch on your brother's friends? But I was then cut short by Sherlock pinching my plastic suit and dragging me in pursuit of Lestrade, I pinched him back and he squealed; the heads of officers around us turned and they gave us dirty looks. One went to speak to us but Lestrade cut in and explained that we were actually allowed to be on a crime scene, and not just trying to sneak in.

We came up to a door that was slightly ajar, there were people dressed in suits that were matching ours. At the end of the corridor was a rather portly man in a suit talking to our headmaster. When Sherlock noticed him, he pushed me into the room next door to the one he was meant to be investigating. "What are you doing?" I asked him whilst pealing myself from the wall I had been pinned to. "That was the superintendent and if he sees us, it may cost Lestrade his job and our place in this school." Sherlock spoke in a hushed tone, "But it'll guarantee us a place in an asylum." I tried to make my sentence sound optimistic and jolly, but Sherlock didn't detect the sarcasm in it. "John, what is so pleasing about going to an asylum?" I sighed "Never mind." I looked out the window and saw hoards of students standing behind the police tape below and the thought actually hasn't crossed my mind of who has died and why we're not yet in the room. Sherlock moved across the room and peaked around the door. "They've gone." He turned to face me and gave me a hand signal. "Come on."

We reached the corridor and Lestrade was waiting patiently outside. Sherlock pointed to the door, "May I?" Lestrade nodded and so Sherlock stormed into the room. I had time to look him over for a moment and remembered that we were both still wearing our pajamas. Well, he had his shirt on but his pajama bottoms were tight around his legs. I tried to hide a giggle and walked in.

When I entered the room after Sherlock I noticed one thing, and that was the poignant smell. "Did he have a roommate?" I asked whilst Sherlock was putting his hand into the potted plant on the windowsill. "Yes, I believe his name is James." He then scooted off to the wall and started putting his ear to it. "Oh, okay." I muttered whilst looking through some documents on the desk to try and make myself look efficient. "But, our friend James has been in here quite recently…" Sherlock was now touching one of the sticks of a Reed Diffuser. What kind of school kid has one of those, anyway? I started looking in the draws of the desk when Sherlock ran into the bathroom. I sat myself down on the chair and flipped through some sketchbooks, all of the sketches were of human anatomy. Sherlock came bounding back into the room with a wash bag cradled in his arms. He unzipped it and shook the bag with all the contents falling out onto the bed. "Fascinating…" he mumbled. "What?" I didn't actually get what he thought was so interesting about someone's razor, toothbrush and paste and shampoo. "This is James' belongings and he hasn't been here for a few days, supposedly, but this toothbrush was used this morning…" "And how do you know all this?" I asked whilst picking up the shampoo to examine it. "Observations" Sherlock replied. "The body found had been dead for more than twenty four hours, at least. The toothbrush is still damp and so is the sink, indicating recent use." I stared at Sherlock and then back at the scattered possessions on the bed.

At that moment, Lestrade walked in. "Okay, time's up Sherlock. Give me everything you've got." He folded his arms. "The boy has been dead for at least two days, he has decayed a little but the temperature of the room has preserved him longer. By looking at the books on his shelf, he was a keen gardener. And the soil of the plant on the windowsill is as dry as a bone. A plant like that needs daily watering and he wouldn't neglect it. I heard one of your boys outside whisper that he was hit on the head and had signs of alcohol abuse, if you look across the wall you can see dirt marks from where he staggered and tried to keep himself up and there are also a few bloodstains on the carpet next to the wall. There are many clear signs that he has been in here alone for a few days, he's been dead for more than forty-eight hours and his roommate would obviously tell somebody if he found a body. But, his roommate's toothbrush is damp, the sink has sign of recent use and his razor has recently been used. All indicating that someone else, most likely the owner of these items, has been in here within the past six hours" I shuffled from one foot to another in absolute awe because of Sherlock's deductions. "That was brilliant…" I said under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear. "I can make some quick judgments on how he died now, but without seeing the body I can't make anything accurate." Lestrade scratched his head. "That should be enough for now, Sherlock. I'll get Mycroft to let you know if we need you again." Sherlock sighed and nodded, I was expecting him to lash out because he seemed so excited; but he kept himself cool. "Now you two can go back and get breakfast." Lestrade opened the door to let some forensic officers in, and we left afterwards.

We walked down the corridor in some silence until we reached the doors leading out onto the courtyard. "We should get some breakfast and head back to our room…" I muttered under my breath whilst opening the door for Sherlock and myself. "You can eat, I'm not." Sherlock said snappily. "No, you are eating." I tried to remain calm. "You aren't my mother…" Sherlock sighed. "I never said that I was." I could feel the tension between us rise. "We need to talk." I said momentarily, Sherlock looked in the air as if to say 'Then what are we doing now, John?' "About us…" I walked a bit faster.

Students pried at us as we dipped our heads under the police tape, I chose to ignore some students mutter 'fag' and another 'I bet he's the killer', but I managed to keep myself above them and stay beside my lunatic roommate. The lunatic roommate that I am falling for…but amongst the obnoxious students gathered around the cornered off building, I noticed one child standing with their back against the building. Everyone else was also in their pajamas and asking each other questions, but this boy was wearing suit trousers and a creased T-shirt. The kid twisted his neck in a cobra like fashion and then closed his eyes. I carried on walking along side Sherlock but kept on looking back to see this odd boy. After the third time of looking around, he had opened his eyes and began to slowly walk in the direction of the library, his black hair fading within the crowd.

After recollecting my food from the cafe and then our from Mike's room, I sat myself down on my bed and arranged my homework around me in a circle. Sherlock was sat on his desk and was typing furiously on his laptop when I went to speak to him. "So this is what you enjoy..." I began awkwardly, Sherlock grunted in reply. I decided to change the conversation "Do you know the answer to this question?" I stood up with my question paper and waited patiently beside him. Sherlock gave a glance over the paper and answered with "Yes, I do." And he turned back to his laptop. "Do you mind helping me with answering the question?" I rubbed my hand through my hair, Sherlock picked up his laptop and scooted to my bed; sitting on all my papers. "Pass me a pen." He said snappily, I threw him over my pencil case from my desk and he pulled out a fountain pen. How predictable. "Come over and sit down." He changed his tune, it was soft and gentle...and I, of course, obeyed.

We were sat in a painful silence for a while as he took over my science homework and I read through a short poem to analyse. "I'm sorry for being irritating..." Sherlock put aside my work and looked up from the duvet. "It's just...this case. I need to help Lestrade... and I need to concentrate." I put my work next to his. "Don't apologise, it's nothing really." I began. We aren't anything though, are we? We aren't committed to each other...are we? "It is...because for the next few days I won't speak much, just as a warning." Sherlock said, and I sat forward "Well, if you won't speak much..." I leaned forward and played with a long curl, which delicately hanged over his face. "John." Sherlock whispered, I leaned forward and then cupped his cheek. "John..." I licked my lips gently. "Don't, John." Sherlock said, his eyes flicking open. I stopped myself from leaning in and looked at him in a puzzled manner. "Oh..." I unfolded myself from my position and stood up beside my bed. "Okay...well, I'm sorry I don't meet your standards." I coughed, feeling both embarrassment and anger. "John, it's not that. It's-" "No, I get it." I could feel myself blush. "I put trust in you, Sherlock. I have trusted you with big things that have happened in my life." I walked towards the bathroom. "John, you're overreacting." I turned around and stared at Sherlock, who was now standing beside my bed. I gave one look over him and walked into the bathroom; slamming the door behind me and fishing around in the cabinet for my medication. Damn my leg.


	10. You have a lot of patience, John

I lead against the tiles on my bathroom floor and shivered like there was no tomorrow. I grabbed the nearest towel and somehow attempted to traipse it across my legs without moving my body too much. My bottle of pills was still resting in my hand, which was laying out beside me and was resting against the wall; my knuckles had grazed slightly from when I threw myself to the ground.

I have come to realise perhaps a slight pattern with taking my medication and lashing out on Sherlock, who has done nothing wrong. The pills make me drowsy and ill, but even then the pain of that is nothing compared to letting down Sherlock.

I sighed and pulled myself up using the sink, I looked in the mirror and my hair was sticking up and there was a tile imprint on my cheek. I grabbed the flannel that was resting over the tap and wiped my face over. I replaced my medicine back into the cabinet and opened the bathroom door.

It was still light and all my papers are sprawled over my bed still. I looked around for Sherlock but he wasn't around. I threw myself onto his bed and grabbed his pajama shirt. I ripped off my top and wedged down my trousers, then looking at my leg. It was throbbing slightly and had turned a scarlet, bruised colour. Whilst soothing the pain, I pulled Sherlock's bed shirt over my head and curled back down.

School lessons again tomorrow, I began to think. People will start talking of how close Sherlock and I now are. And even perhaps that tosser Anderson and his moronic girlfriend Sally have gone and spread the news like wildfire...what news? We were only holding hands, what else is there to it? I then decided I'd reply to my mothers letters and call her to ask if I can visit her next weekend. I need to get away. I need time to think.

I decided momentarily to go for a walk, I rocked myself up from the bed and put my trousers back on; sod the shirt, Sherlock's is cleaner anyway. I combed my hair down with my fingers and slipped on my canvas shoes, heading then for the door.

When reaching the corridor, the cold winter breeze let a draft through the building. I shivered slightly and regretted not thinking about a coat. Just as I was turning the corridor to head down the stairs, I saw the same boy who I saw when Sherlock was called onto that crime scene earlier on; which is weird as he is in a younger year, this isn't his dorm house. Just as I was about to approach him, Anderson ran up the stairs and then halted in front of me. I went to walk around him to question the student who looked quite uneasy in his surroundings, but Anderson began to talk. "About last night." He said. "Don't." I answered "Don't talk about it. I don't want to hear from you, mate." I tried to move around him. I saw Anderson go to reply softly, but his facial exterior turned from soft to almost bitter. "You just don't get it, do you?" He raised his voice. "Little queers, you are." He spat. At that moment I saw the kid behind him almost wake up from his trance and then stared directly at me. "Wh-you what?" I shouted, then launching my fist into his chest. Anderson keeled over and grunted, I pursued in hurting him by grabbing his shirt and pushing him back into the wall, I saw the other boy flinch. I coughed awkwardly and gave almost a sarcastic smile to the younger year and made my way down the stairs. I need to really find out who he is...

I found myself hobbling around the courtyard that leads into some of the outside classrooms. From here I can see the police tape still around the building and what looked like double the amount of forensic officers that were there earlier hovering outside. Next to the tape I saw one officer gathering students and pointing for them to walk over and wait at the main hall.

As I stood staring at the officers all confiding together on new evidence or evidence that has been proven false, I heard steady footsteps walk up behind me. I turned to see a very tired looking Lestrade. He pointed to the bench and cocked his head, I nodded and we both sat. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and slowly lit one; taking a heavy drag. "I don't normally smoke..." He began "but, y'know. This is stressful stuff." He smiled wearily "I told my wife some news, this kid being killed, and Sherlock is being a handful..." He laughed and played with a piece of splintered wood on the bench. "Hm..." I mumbled. "What's Sherlock done?" I questioned quietly whilst looking over to the crime scene. "Oh, you know the boy. Always excited when something of interest is around...he came running over to the scene demanding to see the body." Lestrade dropped the cigarette butt to the floor and put it out with his foot. "I gave up to his whining and drove him to London." He laughed. "Oh, okay." I tried to seem a little more in high spirits. "His brother will drive him back late tonight or early tomorrow." There was a silence between us for a while and Lestrade then coughed to break the silence. "He mentioned you, as well. It's not often he finds a friend, y'know? He's always been a bit of an outcast...incredibly clever, don't get me wrong." Lestrade spoke quickly to almost try and correct himself. "He mentioned me?" I asked whilst turning slightly to face him. "You have a lot of patience, John." Lestrade stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and smiled. "Keep yourself well, yeah?" He then said with a smile and then turning to walk towards the third year's block, officers turned to acknowledge his presence. I turned abruptly and jogged back to my dorm. I need to make a phone call.

When I reached back to my dorm room, I quickly stacked up my paper on the desk and sat down on the edge of my bed. I took my phone from my underwear draw and hovered slightly over my mother's name. I pressed lightly, almost in hope that I pressed light enough for nothing to happen. But the phone started dialing. After four rings, the other end picked up. "John?" I heard her distant voice. It had warmth to it, but it was still coarse to listen to. "Hello, Mum." I began. "Oh, John! It's been too long since we last spoke...I don't think I can speak for long now though, hunny." She sounded rushed "How come?" I asked out of curiosity. "I have a...a guest over at the house." I knew exactly what that meant. Ever since dad died she has had on and off relationships with many men to try and forget about her grieving. At first I actually cared, but now I couldn't care less. "Anyway...Johnny. How are you? How's the leg?" I went to answer when my mum cut in "Met any nice new girls this term? How is Molly doing, she always had something for you...but then most the girls do, don't they John?" I sighed. The one thing I didn't want my mother to bring up was the topic of girls. My sister Harriet and I both grew up quite masculine with my father, so mum never had any 'girly time', she hopes dearly that one day I'll bring home a girlfriend so she can shop with her and play with hair her hair. "I'm fine thanks, mum. My leg has been no problem." I lied to try and keep her happy. "Molly is with Stamford now, mum. And she is doing fine. She is starting to think of working in a hospital rather than a vets." I heard my mother giggle from down the line, clearly at not what I just said. "Sorry John, I'm going to have to leave you. Text me if you need anything sent over, yeah?" She didn't sound at all apologetic. "Yeah, mum. I'll do that. See you soon." "See you, John. Take care." And the phone was put down. I sat motionless.

In all honestly I'm glad that I rang her. Her voice comforts me, and of course, she is my mother. But ever since my father died and I came back to boarding, she lost her promise of ringing me daily and traveling up to check up on me. She kept canceling plans and blaming it on work, which is bullshit. I then decided that I'll text her midweek to say that I'm coming over to visit. At least then I can see Harriet and try to escape from all this drama that has unfolded.

A few hours passed. I decided to use these productively and get the homework completed. It was now early afternoon and it was already starting to get dark, dinner will be served soon and Sherlock hasn't yet returned. There was a knock at the door, I swung my legs over the bed and hopped to the door and then opening it in anticipation of seeing Sherlock. Standing the other side was Mrs Hudson, whom looked incredibly panicked and pale. "M's Hudson, are you alright?" I asked before she could even begin to talk. "Oh, John. I am quite fine! I have just come to tell you and Sherlock that there's an assembly in half an hour, before dinner." She smiled weakly, and I guessed then that it was to do with the death. "Sherlock isn't in at the moment." I said quietly. "Lestra- I mean, one of the officers drove him to London to see…ah, his brother." I smiled. "Oh, yes. Mycroft. I've had many cups of tea with that lovely boy. See, I was a close friend with their mother. I'd take a taxi to their house when Sherlock's brother was younger. When he came here he'd ask to sit with me for dinner and such…anyway, I need to let all the other boys know of the assembly, dear. You know where I am if you need me. See you later." And with that, she walked steadily to the next room and knocked quietly. I slipped back into my room and started lacing on my shoes. I might as well make my way down to the hall now.

I was one of the first in the assembly hall. On the way, I had bumped into Molly and we both elected to walk together. We managed to get ourselves two well hidden and secrete places in the hall, sitting far away from all the overly too eager first years sat in the first few rows. Oddly, sitting just behind the first years was that kid I keep on seeing. The one who was in my dorm house and didn't belong there. I nudged Molly's arm and she turned to face me "Who is that kid? The one sitting the fourth row in sat on his own." I asked, trying to sound more curious than suspicious. "Oh, that is Jim." Molly sighed and lightly blushed. "Jim? In which year?" I asked. "Third year." Molly replied bashfully. I realised then that I was gripping hold of my chair with force and my fingers were almost bleeding. "How has he seemed to you befo-" "Shhh." I was cut short by Molly and then frightened from a deafening call from Mr Strutt.

I sat just staring for a while, it seemed that Mr Strutt was trying to keep the conversation basic and vague; he was talking about new compost bins, which is clearly why we've not all gathered in the hall suddenly.

There was a silence, and he proceeded again. But, this time on the topic that most of us knew were coming. "With my greatest regret, there was a serious incident that occurred in one of the dorm houses early this morning. One of our students was found dead." He took his glasses from being perched on his nose and placed the on the stand in front of him. "We do know that to some this is distressing, and we are allowing you to use the office at any time to call your parents, or, receive support from here at school. We would also like to ask anyone who spoke to Alfie Williams in the past forty-eight hours to contact a member of staff, or, if anyone believes to have seen anything or anyone suspicious looking around school, do report that also. This is not an easy thing to talk about, believe me, but we are trying our very best to keep you all safe and comfortable in our school." He shuffled the paper in front of him. "I am sure you all have studies and homework to return to…" he began, a groan from the students filtered the air. "And I'd like John Watson to stay behind, assembly dismissed."

Molly turned quickly from facing The Head, her ponytail almost slapping my face. "Sorry, ah. John! I wonder what he wants? Maybe he wants you to coach the football team again, wouldn't that be wonderful, John? Wouldn't it?" I smiled uneasily. "Yeah, Moll. That would be wonderful…look, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? Take care." I rubbed her shoulder and stood to make my way across the hall, students batting their way past me.

My heart's pace rose, could I be in trouble? Shit. After that fight the other day I probably am…what if I'm excluded? What would mum say? Before I could ask myself any more questions I was stood at the front of the hall facing a very stressed Mr Strutt. "John.' He began, coolly trying to lean against a pillar. "We need to talk."


	11. I adore you, quite simply

We both stood in silence as we waited for the last of the students to leave the hall, I awkwardly flicked through some hymn books that were stacked next to a pillar. They were dusty from the lack of use.

"Mr Watson." The Head broke the silence with a slow and steady voice and walked up beside me. "I called you behind to just double check, you know, checking up to enquire about your welfare here at Hampstead." He lightly thumped my shoulder as I continuously looked to the floor, where was he going with this? "I am worried for you, John." He spoke in a sigh. "After what happened at Christmas, and all. You must be suffering." His voice faded at the end and he picked off a white cat hair from his sleeve. "And after those boys and you having a bit of a scuffle, and you becoming friends with Sherlock Holmes." Why did he feel the need to say his whole name? "Football practice, also. I was going to ask you if you still feel comfortable here at Hampstead." As he finished that sentence his voice grew louder, and my heart pounded faster. "Mr Strutt." I looked up from where I was standing. "I am feeling comfortable here, bloody hell, why would you think that I'm not?" "Calm your tone, Mr Watson. It was only a deduction of mine." I coughed. "Deduction? You call that a deduction?" I laughed and stared at his face that becoming red and blushed. "And you call that a 'come back'? I accept that you are comfortable here, John. And I will see you tomorrow lunch time for library duty."

He turned as I kicked at a book on the floor. And as I did so, the main door opened, and in slipped a young male student. I tried to remain my cool as I walked behind Mr Strutt, who seemed to not want to go very quickly. "Mr Strutt." I heard the whine from the pupil in front of us. It sounded as if he were Irish. "Jim." The Head said to acknowledge his presence. "Do you mind if we go somewhere a little more..." He paused and twisted his neck "private?" He finished, Mr Strutt almost gulped when replying. "Of course, walk with me to my office...see you tomorrow, John." And with that, the door closed behind them. And I was left with little more information about this student...this suspicious and intriguing student.

When returning to the dorm house, I passed the main office. I quickly entered to not only get away from the cold, but to check if Sherlock had yet returned.

"Hello, madam." I peeked over the high rising desk. I know that I'm small, but Jesus Christ this is a bit extreme. "Hi, John!" You can tell I'm a regular here at reception. "I've come to check if Sherlock Holmes has returned yet?" I asked whilst scratching my head, I could hear papers being chuffed from behind the wooden panel. "No, I am sorry. But I just got a buzz from the main gate and he is being driven up now. You can sit on the sofa and wait for him, if you like?" I smiled. "Thanks, madam." I replied whilst taking a seat on the sofa next to the main door.

I waited around ten minutes before I could hear the sound of a car pull up outside. I then heard a door open and then slam, followed by another being opened and closed with more grace and care. The main door then swung open, and then appeared Sherlock who then paused at the entrance, with leaves blowing around at his feet. Behind him appeared a much taller man who I recognised from my first day back after Christmas. "Sherlock, please. You are behaving like the first day I brought you here. Would you really like for me to bring up that story in front of the whole of reception? Or would you like me to try and carry you to your bedroom, again?" Sherlock scoffed and sauntered towards me and I stood to walk with him to our room, but I was cut short when going to speak when Sherlock leaned forward to brush down my hair; tilting his forehead so it was almost touching mine.

"Sherlock!" I laughed and pushed him gently away from me. "How was London?" I then questioned whilst I watched the man who he arrived with speak with the woman behind the desk. "It was fine...I have more to go from, now. With the case, I mean." Sherlock seemed excited. "Dinner?" I questioned. "Not for me, I have some work to get on with." Sherlock replied whilst giving a gentle smile. "Ah..." I did hope that he would eat with me. "Who is that?" I pointed to the gentleman who started walking over to us. "Let me introduce myself thoroughly, John." The man held out a hand and I shook it carefully. "Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older sibling." I looked between Sherlock and Mycroft. "No, there isn't much resemblance between us, is there?" The elder brother quipped; I moved my head side to side to answer with a 'no'. "I must be off now, goodbye Sherlock. See you very soon." Mycroft gave an off putting smirk to Sherlock and then nodded to myself. Sherlock then muttered under his breath "Goodnight, tosser."

That evening, I did little else but eat what was left of the cold supper served by our caterers and throw a ball around in the corridor of my room with Mike. Thankfully, the game requires not much leg work and still keeps me fit.

"That assembly was an absolute bore." Stamford whined whilst throwing the ball skilfully on the wall so I could then catch it. "Too right." I tried to make myself seem as if I didn't care. "Apparently that kid was a right social reject...into gardening and all that queer stuff." I felt angered at what Mike said, but ignored it otherwise. I then missed catching the ball. "Thank god you're not a goalie!" Mike joked, I laughed and walked at a fast pace down the corridor to turn right and return the tennis ball.

As I approached the turning, I noticed that the ball wasn't on the floor but in fact was in somebody's hand. "Looking for this?" I recognised the Irish twinge in the voice and the boy turned. "You." I spat bitterly. "Don't be so touchy." He threw the ball back and I caught it. "My name is Jim, you needn't know much else." He giggled. "Apart from I'm a murderer." He gave a playful face of pretend guilt and put his hands in his pockets. "You'll be seeing more of me, John." He changed his voice and now sounded a lot more sinister, completely against his soft facial features. But, as he smiled he revealed crooked teeth; giving him a more interesting appearance.

As I went to reply, I heard Mike's solid footsteps run down the corridor; Jim turned and disappeared down the staircase. "Who were you talking to, old sport?" Mike laughed. "Shut your mouth, Gatsby." I joked after him and then realised the seriousness of the situation. "I'll see you in the morning, yeah? I need to get to bed." And with that, I left my friend. And I brought with me the confusion and anger for this man...no, boy.

I returned back to mine and Sherlock's room to find my roommate lying in pitch darkness on the floor, sprawled out with what looked like red marker dotted on his face and a Sharpie next to his wrist. His pale blue shirt had been died slightly by the ink around the cuff, and was unbuttoned at least three buttons down. His trousers were still on, thankfully, but his position meant that the hem of his trousers were under a lot of strain. He was still wearing his shoes, but even in the dark I could tell that they were scuffed and the laces were loosely undone.

"Hello, Sherlock." I sighed and flopped onto my bed. I heard a rustle and then saw my bizarre friend unfold from the carpet. "John." He stood still in the centre of the room. "John!" he replied. "Oh for the love of God. What is it, Sherlock?" I questioned and sat myself up to lean against my elbows. "I want to ask you something." Sherlock's voice went quiet. "I want to ask you something before things start to happen, and before my work gets out of hand." I sat crossed legged on my bed and patted the space in front of me; Sherlock then sat in the spot. "You and me..." he began. "What are we? Are we anything, John? My brother seems to know more than I do, but this is my only weakness. Not being able to guess everything that you feel." He looked uneasy. "Alright, Edward Cullen. Take it easy." I then realised that Sherlock wouldn't get the reference. "Sherlock, what do you want? Do you want a relationship?" I asked. "If that entails spending every waking moment of my life with you, yes. I do." How a teenager so mysterious and intimidating could be such a sweet heart was crazy, I thought. But this is Sherlock Holmes. I took his hands in mine and gave them a gentle squeeze. "I...I really do like you, you fool." I whispered gently, fighting the image of my father to the back of my mind. "John Watson, I...I adore you, quite simply." Sherlock stuttered and there was a little silence. "Does this mean that we..." Sherlock began quietly. "Are in a relationship?" I finished his question. "Yes, Sherlock." I replied. "It does mean that..." there was another silence and Sherlock crawled into a ball at the foot of my bed like a cat; I played with his curls. "Sherlock, why on Earth are you covered in Sharpie?" I felt Sherlock move up and down under my hand, and then heard him restrain a giggle. "What is it?" I asked whilst sitting up. "Mycroft told me something..." Sherlock said coolly. "What did he tell you?" I asked. I then heard him grumble something quiet so I couldn't hear him. "What was that?" I asked playfully. "He told me that if I dotted my face with red ink I'd relax faster." I heard the shame in his voice and soothed him. "Oh Sherlock..." I began, but I then broke into a howl of laugher and turned my body so I was lying with my face facing his. "Bless you." I whispered.


	12. Almost like it was venom

It is becoming something that happens often now, Sherlock and I cuddling up and me resulting in tears of laughter because of how innocent he can be. It's been three days since Sherlock and I started 'going out', and not much has happened. Sherlock is planning on leaving to London Friday evening to return to his 'work', and I'll be leaving Friday to visit my mother for the weekend. And I haven't seen much of Jim, but when I brought him up to Sherlock, he just said, "Leave it to me."

I was walking alone balancing numerous study books and my messenger bag when I was stopped on route to the cafe. "Watson!" I recognised the harrowing call and turned quickly to see Mr Fletcher; the football coach. "Hello, sir." I smiled. "Let me help you there..." he took some books from me and so I rearranged my bag "Thanks."

Mr Fletcher is why I'm still at this school, the football team and my 'talent' in rugby and other sports convinced him to give me a scholarship. He's a relatively young teacher, so when we used to go on sports trips we'd always have a laugh with him.

"How are you doing?" He then asked, which really meant 'How is the leg doing?' "Fine...fine. The leg is getting better. Faster than expected, actually." I knew I'd make him happier by saying that. "That's fantastic, John! Soon enough we can ease you back into training, yeah? If you want, that is." "Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks sir." We'd reached the cafe and he handed me back my books. "Pleasure, John."

As I walked into the room, I first noticed the unusual lack of teachers. Normally they're all sat around one of the central tables all brandishing stained coffee mugs. But no teachers were insight, the only adults were the caterers the other side of glass food containers. I then noticed a gathering of students all towards the back of the room, and I originally thought of Sherlock and how I'd seen this before and he was in the centre being beaten up; how dare they hurt him again? I dropped my books on a nearby table and lunged myself into the crowd, dropping myself into the middle of the circle. I looked around the chanting students to see Jim sat on the chair in the middle, one male pupil walked up to him and kicked his ankle so it hit one of the legs of the uncomfortable, plastic school chairs. "You bastard." He said bitterly, Jim just sat staring ahead. "SPEAK YOU QUEER BASTARD." And that was it, enough, the last straw. I threw my fist and clipped the pupil who was looking far too smug with himself across the chin, a mixture of spit and blood dribbled from his mouth as he tripped over his foot and landed on the floor. People around me stood in silence, shock? I smiled briefly at Jim and he smiled awkwardly back. Shit. Why did I save him? I traded him then a look of anger and wedged my way through the crowd to see Sherlock standing in complete silence the other side.

His hair was messy around his head, as if he'd just woken up, and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck. He was wearing a pair of black Converse and stood just looking at me, almost in a disappointed way. He stood as if his arms were lifeless limbs just hanging from his torso.

I was cut short by somebody tapping on my back, I innocently believed that it would be Jim thanking me for the support; but I was greeted with a fist to my nose. I stumbled backwards onto a table and perched on the end, poking tenderly at my bloodied nose. I looked up to see the kid I'd punch moments ago shaking off his hand and grinning immensely to his friends. I turned to see Sherlock. He then slowly walked towards me and handed me a tissue from his pocket, I took it and thanked him. "No worries, John." He spoke slowly. "We best get out of here, I've got your books in my bag." I picked up my messenger from next to Sherlock's feet and walked out the exit close behind him.

The air nipped at the end of my nose like a puppy terrier dog would at your ankles. We walked in silence, as I sniffled, till we reached at the back of the library. Sherlock pulled out his cigarettes and shivered as he lit the end. "Are you okay?" I asked sweetly whilst leaning in close to him against the wall. "Yes" he mumbled and then released a drag into the air. "I saw what you did, John. What did I tell you about him?" I hung my head. "I did what I thought was morally right, Sherlock." I looked away from him and then turned to face his shoes. "You'll regret that." He sniggered. I prodded at my nose again. "Sher-Sherlock I think my nose is broken." He stubbed the cigarette out on the wall and gently pressed his finger tips across my face. "There is some bruising...shall I take you to Mrs Hudson?" "Please."

Sherlock knocked on Mrs Hudson's door and took my bag from my shoulder. The door opened "Sherlock! Dear, it is lovely to see you." She embraced him in a close hug. "Oh, and Joh- what on earth has happened to you?" She placed hands on my shoulders. "Come on in, you two."

I sat at Mrs Hudson's small table in the kitchen whilst she tittered around in her bathroom preparing some witch-hazel. Sherlock sat on the counter and picked at a pork pie that Hudson made sure that Sherlock ate.

"I'm going to go..." Sherlock said whilst putting the leftovers of his pie down aside. "I have some work to do...homework. I need to make a phone call, also." I mustered together a quite disappointed face and he rolled his eyes. Crouching down in front of me he said. "I'll see you later, yes?" He smiled and wrapped his hands over mine. "To make up for it..." he began, and then giggled. I blushed. "I'll even do your homework, as well." I instantly coughed and my nose dribbled a little blood. "Oh, oh! Thank you, Sherlock. Really...honestly, I am flattered. I can do it, y'know. I am completely capable of doing my work..." I stuttered. "I know, I know." Sherlock stood and gave a little wave. "See you." I replied.

"Here we go, this may sting a little bit!" Mrs Hudson dabbed my nose with a flannel, I winced at the pain. "Are you going to tell me how this happened?" She asked whilst while re-applying the liquid to the damp cloth. "Or is it best that I don't find out?" she smiled. "It's not much, really. I just stood up for a kid who was being hurt, is all." "Oh John. You should always think about your own wellbeing, but you always seem to be the hero of the day!" She put her hand in the air to give a triumphant cheer, I laughed.

Mrs Hudson is the perfect mum. And, even on some days, I'd admit that I prefer her to my own mother. I trust her with anything, absolutely anything. I was left to fix my own cuts if I ever fell off my bike as a kid; I guess that's lead on to make me so conscious of the wellbeing of others...and my own future aspirations. But, I feel relaxed when somebody I trust helps me like this. This is, I assume, what a mother would do.

I turned from looking at the floor and became more attentive to my surroundings, and my trust in Mrs Hudson. "Can I talk to you about something?" I asked whilst lightly prodding my nose. "Of course, John. I have always said that you could trust me with anything, after all!" I wasn't in a mood of laughing anymore, but as I saw her eyes close in a small chuckle; I had to smile. "It's just...I trust you with anything, more than I would trust my own mum..." I trailed off. "Of course, I'm not replacing my mother! That would not be alright...not be good. I haven't spoken to anyone else about this, but...I need to ask how you would go about a situation." M's Hudson put aside the blood-stained bowl of liquid and passed me a carton of orange juice from the fridge, I nodded in thanks. "How...how would you tell your mother that you're gay?" I spat out, almost like it was venom that was sat on my tongue. I looked down to my hands "How would" I sighed "I tell my mum that I have a boyfriend..."

Mrs Hudson knows of my sister, and her traits of exes, and knows what troubles that put my family through. She understands how this could jeopardise a lot.

"John." Mrs Hudson leaned over the table and put a hand on my shoulder. "If your mother cared for you, loved you. She'd accept who you are, and I'm sure that she will!" "Thanks." I whispered. "Oh, you two..." she smiled into her tea. "You will both have to come round for dinner sometime! How about tomorrow night? Oh that would be perfect. I am so glad that Sherlock has you, and that you have Sherlock. After everything that you went through, and of course what Sherlock went through! Oh how wonderful!" I was about to ask again how I'd approach talking to my mum about the situation, when I thought something was fishy about what she said. "After everything Sherlock went through?" I asked.

Mrs Hudson put down her tea and looked at me. "Oh, John." She said quietly. "He hasn't told you, has he?"


	13. Bruised but inked by Biro pen tattoos

I stared blankly at Mrs Hudson, who then muttered something about 'having to wash the dishes' and 'sort the dorms washing out.'

"Mrs Hudson." I managed to spit out, my heart nearly rising through my mouth. "What has Sherlock 'not told me'?" Every thought of something bad raced through me at rocket speed. I mean, Sherlock has probably thought that this little piece of information about him doesn't matter at all. He clearly thinks that it is something that I don't need to know of, for the fact it's either 'pointless information' or that it wouldn't bother me at all.

"I trust that he doesn't mind you knowing, dear. It's not often that he has somebody close to him in his life." It felt as if she was trying to dodge her way around the situation and glaze it with sugar. "Please, for Gods sake, just tell me." I closed my eyes and felt my voice break slightly, I shook it away and stared back at Mrs Hudson; whom was now blinking more at than the average pace and licking her lips uneasily. "A few years ago, Sherlock had a hard time." She breathed slowly. "He was bored, and academically much more excelled than the rest of the pupils here. He started off smoking, Mycroft detested it and Sherlock just denied it." She sighed and rubbed her eyes, the purple eye shadow smudged slightly across her skin; giving her a warmer yet more hollow appearance. "The more he got bored, the more he smoked, the more he experimented. Mycroft grew more and more concerned, but..." she sighed again "I managed to convince him that it was just a stage, and that teenagers do try out these things." I could almost sense where this is going, the other evening when we played truth or dare, Sherlock mentioned- "Heroin." Mrs Hudson took the word straight from my mind, my heart almost stopped when I saw her eyes water. She wiped away the water that was forming and laughed as she whispered "Oh dear lord...I remember collecting his washing and just seeing his frail, pale body just perched in the bathroom. His skin was bruised, it was so, so inhumane. He still denied what he had done, and tried to speak but made no sense. I stood in disbelief, and felt guilty. I let that happen, I convinced Mycroft that it was just a phase." My mouth went dry. "Mycroft sent him to rehab. We found out that he was being bullied as well as being bored, but even today he will deny that the bullies beat him over." I leaned back into my seat, not knowing what to say or do.

We sat in silence for some time until I looked at the clock. "Oh..." My voice was unnaturally coarse as I spoke. "I..best..get back...room." As I stood, my legs wobbled and I fell back into the chair with a grunt. "Fu-Damn my leg." I knew that swearing in front of Mrs Hudson would be no problem to her, but even in an obscene amount of pain I respected her. She stood and coughed slightly, clearing her throat before speaking. "Are you alright, dear? Shall I go and fetch some help?" I was about to say 'No' and that 'I'm fine', but I silencing nodded my head in agreement and Mrs Hudson steadied herself out of the front door.

I lost track of how long it took for Mrs Hudson to reach help, I raised my head from my arms when I heard the door open. "Watson, how are you doing?" Mike tried to rush himself across the room, noticing my face, but waited patiently for a few moments to prop the door open for Mrs Hudson. "Fine." My voice was coarse, but I coughed once and my tone returned to its normal tone. "Yeah, fine." "Good, c'mere you." He rasied a hand and I took it thankfully, leaning over his shoulders on my tip toes. "Thanks, madam." I smiled at Mrs Hudson who removed her hands from covering her mouth in almost shock for seeing me like this. "John, it's okay. I've always said that I'm here." She smiled. "Do you mind doing something for me?" I winced slightly whilst readjusting myself over my friend. "Of course!" "Can you arrange a visit to my family for this weekend? I don't want to bother you, or anything. But I will have a busy few days ahead and I'm not sure if I can do that." "Of course! Now off you pop, I'll see you soon."

Stamford and I chatted about football and cricket as we slowly made our way back to our rooms, his was before mine; so I told him that I can carry on without him.

"You sure?" he asked, I could see he was itching to grab his kit bag from his room to start football practice. "Yeah, cheers. See you soon mate." I smiled and he gave an uneasy nod in return.

Walking back to my room, I noticed that one of the fresh laundry rooms was left open. People often hide in there for a laugh, but I noticed this time the light was on. It was still day, and I knew that classes were still on, so no one should be in there. I huffed and looked up and down the corridor, checking for other people, nobody. Okay. I curled my hand around the door's side and pulled it open. "Hello?" I asked, then remembering that Sherlock and I needed fresh bed sheets, so I walked up to one of the overflowing cupboards and pulled out two of the fresh looking sheets and turned to leave when I saw something move around the corner of the room. "Hello?" I asked again, clutching so hard onto the cloth that my knuckles had turned an unearthly pale white and scarlet.

Whilst walking slowly, I turned whilst looking down on the floor, I saw a pair of shoes just touching the floor; by tiptoes. I looked up and saw the standard issued school trousers, torn and ripped, pale skin against black polyester. Beside them two lifeless hands, pale, slightly bruised but inked by biro pen tattoos. I saw the shirt, half tucked in and half hanging out, and the school tie that was half undone. And finally a face, hanging loosely from a rope, I could see the youth slowly fade. Tufts of hair were sticking up, and the body was slowly spinning, revealing all the damage.

I backed up and tripped on a basket on the floor. In shock, I went to shout, but stalled on my words. I swallowed, my throat dry, and I blinked hard. Backing myself up to the counter, I reached for my phone and hastily rang up Sherlock.

"John, I'm in class. Can this wait?"

I stayed silent, not lifting my eyes from the body.

"John, what is it?"

I made a noise like what a baby would make.

"Where are you?"  
I heard a teacher in the background say something like 'Mr Holmes where are you goi-' and then Sherlock saying "Here is my work, completed."

"Where are you?"  
He asked again, I hadn't noticed my blurred vision.

"Laundry room." I coughed, the phone went down.


	14. A posy of equally acne-ridden boys

"Make sure you hide your things well, John." Sherlock said whilst sliding his laptop under his roll out matt, how well hidden. "Sure." I replied. "Wanna' go to Mrs Hudson's place? She has a phone we could use." I asked. "Sounds good to me."

We arrived at Mrs Hudson's place not long after, and I rang my mum to tell her I couldn't make it at the weekend; which was surprisingly quite easy, but I still held some guilt.

After I finished, Sherlock took to using her phone, and I sat quietly at the table with Mrs Hudson; who thankfully put a bowl of biscuits between us.

"Yes, Mycroft." Sherlock sighed, and just before he put the phone down he whispered "Wanker."

"What's up?" I asked when he walked into the room, an icy glare melted away when he saw the concern painted over both Mrs Hudson and my faces. "I'll explain later, we best be off. Thank you again for your hospitality." He gave a mock bow to Mrs Hudson and she stood to move a curl from his face. "It's my pleasure, Sherlock. But don't you boys take me for granted! I won't be here forever, you know!" I stood up. "Don't worry, we won't." I smiled, she then brushing crumbs from around my mouth. "See you both soon. " she said quietly, closing the door behind us.

We arrived back at the hall in quick speed, the weather outside had dropped considerably in temperature, now being muggy and misty, rather than brisk and clear. And to my delight, they were offering hot chocolate at the door way to where our beds were all made up. I assume for both comforting shock, and the lack of decent heaters in the room.

"So what was up earlier?" I asked, whilst Sherlock and I wound our way past beds and mourning students. "Mycroft was being a tosser." Sherlock then spat out whilst throwing himself among his bedding, then burrowing his head in the pillow. I casually crouched on my bed, drawing my knees to my chest, and took a deep sip of cocoa. "How?" I asked, Sherlock then looking around us in a scanning manner. "Mother doesn't want us sharing a room, being cautious of us in the same bed." He lead facing the ceiling and put his arms out beside him, my shoe nearly touching his fingers. "It's preposterous really." He muffled, I tensed at the thought of being that close to Sherlock and in the surroundings of his own home. "Oh well, at least we'll be spending time together. " I smiled, him then turning to face me. "But we'll mostly be in a morgue." My smile faded, and he grinned.

Just at that moment, we were disturbed by a very humoured looking Anderson; and a posy of equally acne-ridden boys."Sherl-cock Holmes!" He grunted in satisfaction of his apparent hilarity, he boys around him all looking at one another with spine-chilling grins. I could feel the grip on my polystyrene mug tighten, causing scolding hot chocolate to pour over my hand, I flinched. This caused the group to look over at me. "John Watson." Anderson said slowly, I saw Sherlock go to say something but I widened my eyes to say silently for him not to. He got the idea. "How's the family?" He said whilst putting his head to aside. "How's papa Watson?" I stared blankly at him, I couldn't react. I'd be kicked from the school and that'd just cause more issues. "Don't." I warned him. It was neither a threat, or a sign of weakness. "Or what?"

We were cut short by Molly running over to hug me, I held my cup out to aside minding not to scold her, and she pulled back. "Oh, John. There's someone at reception for yo-" She stopped mid sentence and looked at the group of boys all stood around mine and Sherlock's bed. "Sorry, um, did I disturb anything?" She looked uneasy and picked at the hem of her cardigan. "No, they were just leaving." I shot, what I hope was, a dirty look to the gang. And after Molly looked up to stare at them, they shuffled off to the other side of the hall.

"Who's at the main office?" I asked offering Molly some hot chocolate. "No thanks...Harry is, John. And she isn't that happy." I looked over to Sherlock, who for a second looked like was sulking. "You better come with me." I said.

We walked in an only too awkward silence. The back of Sherlock's hand rubbed against mine every now and again as we walked, sending what felt like jolts of electricity up my arm and across my torso.

The corridors were understandably grim today. Teachers walked in silence beside each other, giving a tight lipped smile when we passed. An officer stopped us in our path. "Mr Holmes?" He asked tenderly. "That'd be me, officer." "I need to see you at some point. Regarding...well, you know what." Sherlock's face was understanding and tense. "Yes, later on perhaps?" The officer nodded, we walked on. It's best I ignore that, or at least try to.

Just before we entered the main reception, I turned to Sherlock. "Don't 'deduct' my sister. Or, if you do, keep it in your own head. She's not afraid to hurt you, physically or verbally, okay?" I saw Sherlock process the information and then give a little nod. "Yes, yes, fine." He said. "And don't try any funny stuff." I said, pointing a finger at his chest. "Me, funny?" He questioned whilst playfully nudging my hand from his body. "You..know what I mean." I smiled lightly and together we walked into the main office. And there was Harriet, standing tall and looking directly at me.


	15. How are you friends with this freak?

"Hi, Harriet." I walked up to my sister with a slight hobble. The pain comes slightly when I'm feeling nervous...she's my sister, why should I be nervous?

"Johnny." She said with a patronising tone. "It's, ah, nice to see you." I said, God that sounded worse than I first hoped. "...Why are you here?" I asked after a painful silence. Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you doing this to mum?" "Sorry?" I only rang mum earlier to tell her I couldn't make it. "I was coming up to see how you were doing, John. The school rang to tell me you went through a traumatic incident, but that you were pulling through easily, and then I get a call from mum to say you pulled out of visiting this weekend...why?" I stood in silence and felt Sherlock standing behind me, shuffling through paper on the desk. "And who's this?" She asked, pointing at Sherlock. I gulped. "Sherlock Holmes" he extended a hand "A friend of John's." Harry stared at his hand and back up to him. "Nice to meet you." She stuffed her hands in her jacket pocket. Sherlock stared at her and awkwardly put his hand down. "Don't be rude!" I said to her sharply. "Me, rude?" I shouted, people around us started tutting and staring. "Mr Watson." One of the male teachers peered up over his desk. "My office is free, if you'd like to use that?" I nodded briefly and he directed us to his room.

"Should I wait outside?" Sherlock asked whilst making sure Harry had gone in and was at a safe distance not to hear anything. "I'd rather you come with me...but, if you feel uncomfortable, you don't have to, y'know?" "I do know...I'll come with you, John." He smiled and lightly ran his hand over my back, directing me into the room.

"So, tell me." Harriet began whilst sitting down and sitting on the desk, her Doc Martens tapping on the floor. "Why are you being such a little awkward bastard to mum? She doesn't deserve it, John!" I sat on the side of the room with Sherlock.

I am embarrassed with Sherlock seeing this...but, it was comforting. I felt less targeted and angry, which always helps. Him standing there observing, deducting, catching up on the family bickers that he probably barely ever has was daunting, but I pushed it aside.

"I didn't intend on hurting mum..." I said at a tone a lot less quieter than Harry's. "I need to help Sherlock, Harry." Harriet looked at me and then stood up with force, I stopped her from stepping any closer to Sherlock. "Don't go near him." I said harshly. "Is this your fault, then? Break up another family because yours probably doesn't suit you, 'ey?" Sherlock stood and gave an icy stare. "I would never even tempt the thought of upsetting John." He said whilst tapping his hands along a bookcase. "Really, 'coz it doesn't seem that way." Harriet was throwing her arms around furiously, causing her necklaces to swing her beside her neck. "Oh, 'coz' you're so logical, aren't you?" Sherlock bit back. "Guys, please." I tried to get in between their bickering. "I went to Uni!" Harry replied. "You dropped out, that barely counts." Sherlock replied steadily. "How do you know that? Did you tell him that?" I went to reply with 'No', because I hadn't, "I noticed. I've been logical here." Sherlock replied. "Christ sakes..." I muttered."How are you friends with this freak?" I went to shout back, but she then she carried on. "God, no." "What?" I said. "You...two?" "Harriet, shut up!" I shouted. "Whatever, I'm going." She said and ran out the door. "I need to stop her..." Sherlock nodded and I, tried to, run after her.

"Harriet, wait!" I shouted, chasing Harry out across the parking spaces to her car. "John, you can't hurt mum like that. After everything. And you can't keep secrets!" "This secret is best to be kept, Harry. You know that." She leant against her car and huffed. "I know, I'm sorry..." she said "So you...and him..." "Yes." She propelled herself from the car. "You can't keep this from mu- God, you have to, don't you? Keep this from mum...it's what's best." "It is." "I'm so sorry, John." She rubbed my shoulder. "It's fine, really." "So tell me, is he a good kisser?" "Harry!" "He's a bit of a bastard, but his mysterious side to him probably means that he is perfect in be-" "No!" She stopped. "It's difficult." I sat down leaning against the car. "What is?" Harriet sat beside me. "Trusting people, allowing people to be really close to me. I trust Molly easily, we've always been friends. Sherlock is a little tougher to let in...y'know?" "I know..." "You'll be home soon, right?" She asked. "I will, I just need to help Sherlock." "Yeah...I'll be off soon." She said whilst climbing back up. "But you keep safe. I'm surprised they still keep this place open, with two deaths." She said whilst staring at the grand building. "You'll probably find out that the head is some mass crazy murderer or something." She laughed, I tried to laugh along as well. "Right, I best be off." I got up and awkwardly hugged her. "I'll be over soon, yeah? Take care." "And you, Johnny!" She scruffed my hair. "Be careful this weekend, if you know what I mean." "Harry!" "Right, right, yeah sorry. Take care."

I waved Harriet off and walked back up to the reception, where Sherlock was waiting for me.

The weekend came round pretty quick. We had to sleep in the hall, which was a pain for my leg, but it meant there weren't any assemblies; which was a bonus. Sherlock and I are now throwing all of our belongings into my huge duffel bag, which saved two heavy luggage bags.

"Sherlock, you don't need that!" I pointed towards Sherlock, who was now packing an encyclopaedia. "Suit yourself." He said whilst throwing it back onto his bed. "When does our Taxi arrive?" I asked whilst zipping the bag up, Sherlock turning around to shove his third pair of shoes into it. I groaned. "In ten minutes, it's taking us to the train station." Sherlock then wedged his shoes into the side pocket and gave me a playful smile. "Okay, that's fine. We best get going, then." I said whilst heaving the bag onto my shoulder. "Ready?" "Not yet." I sighed at Sherlock, whom never seems to be prepared for anything that isn't a dead body. Which is funny, because it's not like a dead body will be going anywhere in a hurry. Sherlock then lightly lifted my chin with his fingers and hovered his lips over mine, in almost an ask as to whether he can kissed me, I nodded, and he planted a light kiss on my mouth. "I...let's go." I returned a quick peck and pulled back. "Let us." He replied.

The Taxi journey was in mostly silence. I sat staring out of the window, trees turning into houses, houses turning into high rise buildings. Sherlock sat texting on his phone, every now and again I'd turn to see if he was okay; and his eyes would meet mine and then crinkle from a smile.

The train was a little more lively. It arrived late, what a surprise, and there was a screaming toddler in our carriage. After flicking through a Metro paper, Sherlock started to talk. "I apologise in advance for my family." He sat opposite me, legs completely straight and his hands cupped on his lap, but stared out of the window. I laughed "Really, are they that bad?" He kept straight faced. "Ah...and the bedroom situation?" "I've compromised that we use the guest room with two singles." I made a humming sound in response and rubbed my shoe against his ankle. He raised an eyebrow and stared at me, I smiled briefly and he returned a grin. "You are special, John." He said slowly, the words almost dropping from his lips. "Compliment?" I asked, smiling. I felt the eyes of people around us burn into our souls. "Of course." He replied.


	16. Only after dark

The train was a little more lively. It arrived late, which wasn't a surprise, and there was a screaming toddler in our carriage. After flicking through a Metro paper, Sherlock started to talk. "I apologise in advance for my family." He sat opposite me, legs completely straight and his hands cupped on his lap, he carried on staring out of the window. I laughed "Really, are they that bad?" He kept straight faced. "Ah...and the bedroom situation?" "I've compromised that we use the guest room with two singles." I made a humming sound in response and rubbed my shoe against his ankle. He raised an eyebrow and stared at me, I smiled briefly and he returned a grin. "You are special, John." He said slowly, the words almost dropping from his lips. "Compliment?" I asked, smiling. I felt the eyes of people around us burn into our souls. "Of course." He replied.

We arrived at the station and pulled our luggage down escalators. "I would get a taxi" Sherlock began, looking around him in agitation due to the amount of people and lack of nicotine. "but I have no money. Although the tubes are handy." Somehow Sherlock had two Oyster cards, one for me and him.

The tube was pact, as I imagined, but as we got a little out of the centre; the commuters died down, and we were left in one carriage with a family of tourists. Sherlock put his hand on my knee.

"We won't have a lot of time alone..." He sat on an angle to face me. "My brother will have us closely monitored." I turned to face him and fought back the urge to cup his face with my hand. "That's fine, Sherlock." I said, my voice becoming quieter. "I can wait." I whispered.

The windows of the tube train flickered to then reveal a groggy looking posh end of London. I smiled, the warmth of Sherlock's hand comforted me. We pulled up to a station, and I saw a tall man with his back to us the other side of the ticket booths under a large umbrella. It wasn't even that raining much.

Sherlock stormed through the ticket booths and approached the man, I dragged our luggage behind him. "I thought we were walking?" He snapped, the tall figure turning around with a grin. Mycroft. "Lovely to see you, Sherlock. I see you have left John with the luggage." I looked up from my feet. "Let's get you two in the dry." And with that, a long black saloon car pulled up beside us and a chauffeur walked out and took the luggage from me. "Come on." Sherlock grumbled. "We'd best get in."

"How's school?" Mycroft was sat opposite us, staring at the gap that separated Sherlock and myself. "Fine." Sherlock stared outside of the tinted window. "And for you, John?" I looked to Sherlock for confirmation, I don't know why, but it felt appropriate. Mycroft laughed. "You really do have him on a leash, don't you?" He smiled patronisingly at Sherlock. "Only after dark." Sherlock replied, I blushed uncontrollably. Mycroft rolled his eyes. "We won't be around much this afternoon, John and I are going to Barts." Sherlock sat up straight in his seat as we turned into a long drive. "Mummy wants a formal dinner tonight, Sherlock. Make sure you are home by half seven." Sherlock grumbled in reply. We pulled up to the double front doors to a large, tall cream shaded building, symmetrical potted plants sat either side of the doors.

Sherlock swung open his door and clambered out of the car, he than ran around the car and opened the door my side. He then offered me his hand to get out. After thanking him, Sherlock didn't move. He stood completely still staring at my face, I uneasily picked at the hem of my knitted jumper. "John..." He put a hand gently on mine. "Save it." I said whilst smiling at him and putting my hand on his chest, the buttons taught over his torso. I went to lean in and plant my lips on his when we heard a cough from Mycroft. "Sherlock." He said sternly, I backed away looking at the floor.

As we walked up to the large front doors, they both opened, behind them standing little woman with curly brunette hair. It looked difficult to maintain, but she's managed to keep it neat. She wore a smart dress patterned in symmetrical flowers and two pockets. She wore two slippers and an expensive watch that the face managed to match the icy blue colour of her eyes.

Sherlock's mother.

"Sherlock, darling!" She walked down the steps, picking up her dress slightly (even though it was knee length) and throwing her arms over Sherlock's neck. She stood on a higher step so she could access him better. "Mummy." Sherlock stifled a smile and stepped back. "And who is this?" She turned and walked in front of me. "This is John Watson." Sherlock said, almost proudly. "He's my-" "Friend." Mycroft cut in. We all turned to face him, I could feel my cheeks burning. "Ah, that's nice." The way Mrs Holmes spoke with an unbelievable tone didn't quite match the warmth and knowingness in her eyes. "Let's get your belongings in then, boys." She said after a painfully long silence.

"How dare he." Sherlock spat, punching one of the tall walls in our bedroom forcefully, causing one of the framed artworks to rattle against the wall. "How dare he tell her that. I was about to tell her who you are to me, John. I'm proud of us, I'm proud of you." I stood and put an arm on his shoulder. "We can tell her later, then." I proposed. "It's...it's not that simple." He turned to face me, but kept his eyes darting beside my face. "Father will be home, I can't tell mummy until father is out of the house." He sighed and sat down. I decided not to press into it any further. "We won't have long at Barts this evening, but long enough to make some process." "Barts?" I asked. "St Bart's is the hospital. We'll be in its morgue." I made a grunt in reply and started unpacking our clothing. The door opened and a little boy popped his head around the door. "Sherly" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Your taxi is here."

We arrived at St Bart's not long later, and Sherlock wouldn't tell me who the little boy was, so we walked in silence.

"Both the bodies are in here." Sherlock pointed through the window. We need to put some gloves on and a coat, boring procedure. I followed Sherlock into a room and he managed to, after a long while, find one that fitted me.

"We need to check over the body for signs and any evidence that these are certainly murders and not mistakes. We also need to find slip up within the documents" he pointed a finger to a large stack of paper "that proves Moriarty to be our murderer. This could take as little as hours or as much as months." I inwardly sighed at the prospect of having to spend months in this grim place.

We looked over both of the bodies for an hour until it started getting dark. "Take some of these." Sherlock ordered whilst pointing to the stacks of paper and photographs on the table. "Sure, we'll need to go soon." I replied, I remembered Mycroft discussing dinner and I'm getting quite peckish. "And if we take some of these, we can work on them after supper." Sherlock started stacking up piles of documents into a large bag, I followed suit.

On arrival back at the Holmes' house, Sherlock dragged me upstairs without even a proper greeting to his father; who opened the door.

"Wear your best shirt." He said whilst taking off his own clothing and throwing it into a pile on the floor. Maybe this is more formal than I first thought. Sherlock stood in his pants and stared at the suit on his bed. "This isn't my suit." He whispered. "Goddamn that man." And after he shouted that, he balled up the suit in his hand and ran out the door. "Sherlock!" I called after him, he was still in his pants; but he gave no answer. I carried on with my own clothing.

Fifteen minutes later Sherlock came running back in. "This is my suit. The insufferable tosser thought it was funny to give me the other one..." "Why would he do that?" "Because he's jealous of my weight but won't admit it." Sherlock looks like a, most the time, skeleton. Why Mycroft would want to be that thin is beyond me. I checked my watch "It's almost quarter past seven." I said. "Stand up, John." I stood up and Sherlock stared at me. I felt uneasy under his examining gaze, but when he smiled I felt comfortable. "Lovely." He said under his breath, I flattened the collar of his pale blue shirt. "Can I just say..." Sherlock began. "This isn't about how stimulating you look, but, about the people who'll be at the dinner." "I'm sure your dad's fine, Sherlock." "It's not about father...children will be there, not related to any of us. And Lestrade will be there." I tried to read where Sherlock is heading from. "That's fine." I whispered.

We walked downstairs taking as long as we could take, but soon enough we reached one of the many living rooms. Sat in an arm chair was Mr Holmes, a pipe hanging from his lips, he looked purposeful, prosperous and powerful. Sherlock's mum was sat on one of the sofas; her hand holding gracefully a glass of red wine that matched her dress, on the end closest to Mr Holmes, and beside her two young children and then Lestrade. Sat at the small table with a crossword was Mycroft.

I followed Sherlock and sat on the sofa opposite where Lestade was sitting. The gap between us felt like miles. One of the kids, a little girl, woke from where she was leaning against Lestade. "Sherly!" She exclaimed whilst running across the room and throwing herself in Sherlock's lap, I heard Mycroft chuckle. "Isabelle." He said quite blandly whilst patting the child's hair, who then fell into the gap between me and my boyfriend. "Who's this?" She said whilst jabbing a finger into my arm. "Don't be rude, Izzie." Lestade said. "This is John!" Sherlock said in more of an exciting voice, one fit for a child. "Is he your friend?" She asked whilst turning to face me. "Kind of, yeah." He smiled at me whilst saying that. Mycroft stood behind us and moved to sit in the gap where Isabelle left. The young boy moved onto Lestrade's lap. "Kind of?" She asked in a high pitch noise. "Yes, he's my-" "I think dinner is ready." Mycroft stood up and checked his pocket watch. "Always thinking about your stomach." Sherlock made a comment. "Darling..." Sherlock's mum rolled her eyes. Mr Holmes' stood up, and when he stood, Sherlock stood up. It was silent until Mr Holmes exited the room, Sherlock's mother sighed and walked up to him. "Don't." Is all she said, Mycroft smiled and walked out of the room holding Isabelle's hand. Lestade stood up and held the little boy on his waist. "Don't worry about it, Sherlock. You can tell 'em later, yeah?" He spoke under his breath. "Sure." Sherlock replied.


	17. I have never in my life felt so alive

Sherlock and I were the last to leave for the dining room, resulting in Mycroft already cunningly positioning everyone so me and Sherlock were separated. "John, would you care to sit next to me?" Sherlock's mother asked with a smile and patted the chair next to her and Mr Holmes, who sat at the head of the table. "I, er, of course!" I looked across to Sherlock who had already sat himself in between Mycroft and Isabelle.

The room's a rectangle shape. Hanging on the walls are ancient family portraits and photographs; nothing recent and certainly of nobody in the room. The table had been dressed with silver cutlery and red napkins. Wine glasses were positioned all along with bottles of expensive looking red wine being served by a house maid. My thoughts dragged back to the cutlery, two forks? Jesus Christ, which one do I use first?

"Ooh, dinner is here!" The young boy almost shouted and pointed to the door where four butlers walked out with trays of rarebit. They placed them on the opposite side of the table and then came back to place the rest on my side.

"A Welsh starter, John." Sherlock's mother was almost whispering to me. "We are of a Welsh descent." She finished. "Oh, interesting." I replied whilst dancing my fingers across the forks to try and determine which to use. "Don't you know how to eat?" Mr Holmes bellowed, I looked up and almost stopped breathing. Everyone went silent. "Well?" He asked again. "I, er, well I don't know how to-" "Spit it out, boy!" He ironically spat it out himself, all over my starter. I looked down to my plate. "I...I don't know which set of cutlery to use first, Mr Holmes." I could feel my adrenaline rush. "Sorry if that's such a burden for you." I snapped sharply looking up from my plate. He went to reply but Sherlock intertwined by standing up and walking behind me. He reached around my back and took my hands. "You start from the outside in, John." He said into my ear, I shivered slightly. "Tha-" I coughed "Thanks, Sherlock." I replied whilst picking up the dainty cutlery and tucking into my starter, I could see Mr Holmes become even more red beside me. "Thank you, Sherlock." His mother said politely. We finished the starter in a painful silence.

By second course the adults, and Sherlock, have had at least two glasses of wine (I stuck to one) so conversation became more lively. "So, John." Mr Holmes began whilst speaking with a mouth full of food. "I presume you don't pay to go to Hampstead, what scholarship are you on?" He asked whilst then leaning in. "I'm on a sports scholarship, Mr Holmes." He laughed. "And what is your favourite sport?" He asked in a weird and patronising tone. "I play mostly football, bu-" "Football, isn't that for puffs?" I was taken back by his informal choice of wording. I expected Sherlock to say something, but he stayed silent. Mr Holmes laughed "Sherlock. What an intriguing intellectual your friend is." He said sarcastically. "I'm also a high achiever in sciences, Mr Holmes." "Football..." He muttered under his breath.

I felt enraged, horrified and disgusted by Mr Holmes' words. This is, I thought, a man who deserves no brain or no eyes or no ears. He deserves nothing that allows him to see the living daylight ever again.

"And I'm amazed, Mr Holmes, that you choose to brand football as a game for 'puffs'. Your informal slang shows, to me, almost a weakness in your point of view on homosexuality. Almost like you know you should accept it, but are two weak to decline it completely." I put my fork and knife on my plate and awaited a response, I saw Mycroft's eyes widen in front of me. I regretted opening my mouth. It was almost like a deduction, almost like Sherlock had said it. But, to my amazement, Mr Holmes stared at me in silence and lightly nodded, and with that he stood up and left.

"I...I am so, so sorry." I turned to the table and looked at everyone's faces. Lestrade looked confused but understanding. Mycroft was staring directly at his mother, whom was resting a hand on my forearm. Sherlock was still staring at his plate and the two kids were making faces at each other across the table.

Mrs Holmes stood up. "John, you have courage." She said softly and left the room. I stood up then also "I should go." "No." Sherlock stood. "John, please. Courage can often seem like stupidity, but you were brave then, John. You don't know what my father is like, but you stood up for what's right. That takes courage." He put a hand on my shoulder. Mycroft stood and left.

Sherlock ran across the room to check Mycroft had fully gone and then closed the door. "Children." He ran up to the table and looked between Isabelle and the boy. "Sheerrly." They said at the same time. "Look, I need to tell you something, okay?" They nodded. "John is more than just a friend to me, and I think it's important you know that." They both nodded again. "He is my partner, do you understand?" They nodded again. "We love each other very much, and sometimes we prove that in silly ways like arguing for what's right, or, drawing over each other when we sleep!" We don't do that of course, but it made the children laugh in hysterics as Sherlock then acted as if he'd just woken up to find marker pen scribbled over his face. It made it more understandable and funny for the kids, which is important. "So John is your boyfriend." Isabelle said whilst giggling. "Yes, he is!" Sherlock giggled along with her. "I think it's time for bed, you two." Lestrade said whilst smiling. "Run to your room and I'll be up in a minute. Say goodnight to Sherlock and John. " "Goodnight, Sherly." Isabelle laughed, the boy looked up to me. "Goodnight, Johnny." He said with a smile. I froze at that name, and they then ran off out of the door.

"Sherlock you were very good with them." Lestrade said whilst sipping his wine. "Thank you." He replied. "I need to speak to John though. Do you mind reading the kids a story?" "Of course not!" Sherlock replied. "From one of their books!" Lestrade shouted to Sherlock as he started to walk out. "We don't want any more decapitation dreams." I laughed along with Lestrade.

"John, there is something you kinda need to know. I mean, you will probably spend a lot of time here now." I sat down. "Mycroft and I are...how can I put this simply...dating. But we're not, at the same time." I nodded for him to go on. "We have an agreement that we sort-of-date by me supporting him in whatever needs be, and he supports me with the same and also the kids. It's weird, I know, and y'know we don't sleep together or anything, but we might; I don't know. But it's just a really strong bond, yeah? Just to clear that one up." "I get it, Lestrade." I said whilst smiling. "How sweet." I finished. "Shut up!" He replied whilst standing. "See you later." "See you."

I exited the dining room to look up and down the corridor. I could hear Mycroft, Sherlock's mother and Mr Holmes all bickering in a room left to me, I decided to give that way a wide berth and made my way to the hall and main staircase. Without thinking I leaped up the stairs, my leg giving some pain; but it was nothing, and walked around the top floor trying to recall which of the many doors belonged to Sherlock and myself. Oh hell, am I even staying on this floor?

I walked up to one door and put my ear to it making sure no one was in there. All clear. I creaked open the door, nothing but bookcases and dusty cabinets. I could imagine Sherlock spending hours in here curled up on the floor with a large book or clambering up the bookshelves to keep himself busy. I shut the door and carried on walking down the corridor. Just as I was about to try another door, Sherlock appeared. He leaned against the door frame of the room he just appeared from; the lighting casting a romantic appeal over his body.

"They're both asleep, try to keep your noise down." He said at a whisper. "What do you want to do? We have an indoor pool if you want to use that?" I went to explain that I didn't bring my trunks, but Sherlock cut in. "I have spare trunks." And with that he turned around to walk to our room, I jogged up beside him.

"Wait here." Sherlock told me, I threw myself onto my bed and he disappeared. A few minutes later he emerged with two towels and a pile of swimming trunks. "Try any of these." He dumped a load on my bed, I didn't even know Sherlock enjoyed swimming, but apparently he does. I pulled up a red pair that looked like my size and wrapped a towel around my waist; shimmying my trousers and pants down and then pulling my trunks up.

After awkwardly getting changed, we made a dash for the pool. I decided to leave my top on for the time being, and Sherlock kept his expensive shirt on with his trunks. Typical. We ran as quickly as we could on our tip toes, scooting past a maid and making her jump in surprise. I apologised whilst then running faster to catch up with the lanky Sherlock Holmes.

We reached the kitchen and he turned around abruptly. "Food." He said once and then dived to a cupboard and pulled out two packets of Custard Cream biscuits. He then went into the fridge, moved his head around radically, and pulled out two bottles of posh looking water, he propped them under his arm and turned to me. "Okay, let's go."

We reached what I assume was the pantry and made a sharp right into the pool area. It was fairly large and a rectangular shape with a jacuzzi in the top left hand corner and a door on the right hand which lead to, I assume, a sauna.

"Come on, John!" Sherlock shouted, he was already standing at the other side of the pool, his shirt draped on the floor in a puddle. "Coming, Sherlock!" I shouted whilst hop-skipping to make sure I didn't slip over. On my way towards the lanky, pale teenager he dived gracefully into the pool. My breath hitched as I saw his body plunge effortlessly into the water. His body relaxing only too easily in an element which could replace the air in your lungs and make you die in agonising pain.

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted for what must've been the third time, and then he scooped his arms round to splash me; wetting my t-shirt through to my skin. All thoughts of death disappeared as I saw Sherlock's eyes from under his fringe glide from my face to my chest.

It was a painful silence until I slowly slid the shirt over my arms and head, throwing it then beside my feet. I walked up to the pools edge and, what must have been angelically, bombed into the pool.

When I emerged from the water I saw Sherlock leaning against the edge laughing. "What, Sherlock?" I laughed with him. "What is it?" I asked again. Sherlock stopped laughing and turned to face me. "That was very graceful, John." He kept a straight face. "You hilarious bastard." I wailed whilst throwing my body in his direction, causing a tidal wave of water colliding against his body. "You insufferable tit." I said whilst then grabbing onto his shoulders and pulling him into the water, I made sure we both then went up for air. "Oh, Jonathan!" Sherlock said in a tone which a mother would use to scold their child. "It's John, you twat." Sherlock laughed and climbed out of the pool, his muscles flexing as he used his arms to pull himself out.

"John." He said, and then 'skipped' a bit. "Watson." He finished and stood at the end of the pool. He didn't move from where he stood, he just stared at me as if he hadn't thought that far ahead. "You make me so happy." He whispered under his breath. "But I am so sorry." He then whispered, and then he cocked his head up. "I must leave you now." He said in a playful tone. He then threw both his arms out in the air and dropped into the pool, belly flopping into the water. He held himself under for a while and when he swam to the surface I heard him wince. "Who's laughing now, huh?" I laughed at him as he gave me a grumpy face.

We stared at each other for a long while until I broke the silence. "Oh, okay. Come here." He gave a smile like the Cheshire cat and swam over to me. I leaned forward and with my hand moved the wet curls that were clinging to his forehead. "I really do like you." I said awkwardly. "And I adore you." He said back whilst drumming his fingers across my collarbone as if he was playing the piano. I cupped his face in my hands and leaned forward, playing with my mouth against the skin on his cheeks; my lips lightly pressing marks into his pale, wet skin.

I have never in my life felt so alive.


	18. I'll be with you years

Sherlock and I spent most of the weekend in the morgue. We discovered that the death of both boys was by drowning on their own vomit, which threw Sherlock off on a tangent because he didn't deduct that.

"It just doesn't add up." He threw his arms in the air. "They, for some reason, both died from a heavy intake of alcohol or drugs. But you saw the first pupil's room, someone like that wouldn't use alcohol in such an abusive manner. Also, both bodies had been posed to make it seem like they died from other causes. A head injury and a suicide." He perched himself on the table. "Both died from poisoning."

I carried on flicking through documents and photos. One think that jumped out at me was the first pupil's diary. It had sketches of plants and cuttings of flowers and plants, but in the last few pages five pips, or seeds, had been glued to the page. I wouldn't have pointed that out to myself if I hadn't noticed a photo of the second pupil's desk, in which four pips, or seeds, were neatly arranged next to his schoolwork.

"Sherlock, why are there seeds on the desk?" I waved the photo in the air. "Alfie was a keen sports player, and as you know seeds are good for health." I nodded. "Yes, but look here." I pointed the diary in the air. "The seeds stuck to the paper, in the same line, don't really match the theme of the rest of the diary." Sherlock scooted from the edge of the table and ran over to me. "God...you are right, John." "Oh..." "We need to go back to school." Sherlock ran over to the wall and picked up the telephone, which sat on the wall. "Hello, Mycroft, can you prepare the car? Thanks." He slammed the phone down. "Come along, John." I stood up and jogged over to him and we both ran out of the hospital, Sherlock preparing a cigarette and smoking it on the way.

Sherlock's mother was upset to see us leave so soon into the weekend, but she smiled and gave us a potted plant for our room at school. "Your housewarming gift." She told us. Well, told me. Sherlock couldn't give two shits.

We arrived back at school at 5:30pm and it was already dark. "Sherlock, what do we do now?" I asked as I precisely watered our new plant that took pride on the windowsill. "We wait." He answered whilst shuffling off his coat. "How long for?" I asked whilst walking back over to the bathroom. "Minutes, hours, months, years. I don't know." I sat down on his bed and patted next to me. "You need to relax." I said. "Me? No, I'm fine. Totally fine." "Sherlock, I can assure you nothing will happen this evening other than me pestering you to get some proper rest." He sighed. "Fine, alright, okay." He sat next to me and curled up on his side, I lead facing him and cupped his hands in mine. "We may have to wait months, Sherlock, but I'll be with you years."

A week later, still nothing. Sherlock has turned to finishing my homework if I leave it out in the room, so I now need to hide it. "Sherlock, if we were in first year I'd happily allow you to do my homework, but I need to do it now otherwise I wont pass anything!" He threw a stack of paper into the air and they formed a blanket across the floor. "Sherlock, Jesus Christ." I started picking up all the pieces of paper. "I'm not mad at you, but you can't act so petulant and alone when you're mature and have me." My voice almost broke, the lack of decent sleep and dealing with Sherlock has proven to be tiresome. "John..." Sherlock began. "John stop." I stopped and stood up, my hands tensing; creasing the paper in my hands. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry." "Don't waste your breath." I said whilst bending over to carry on picking up my homework. "John, John stop." Sherlock kept on repeating my name as I scooped up the last sheets of paper. The silence was thick in the air. "Would you like some tea?" Sherlock asked whilst staring at his feet. "Yes, please." I replied, whilst sitting at my desk in a forced strop.

Months went by, silent ones. There were no holidays, so Sherlock and I remained bored and tired at school.

"Bored, bored, bored." Sherlock was resting on my bed and ran his feet up and down one of the posters I had up against my wall (A retro Star Wars one) and I watered our plant that Mrs Holmes gave us. "Why don't you go for a walk?" I asked. Sherlock needs fresh air more than he thinks he does. "No." He bluntly replied. "Okay…how about we watch a film?" He groaned and pulled his knees into his chest. "D'you mind if I smoke?" He doesn't normally ask me if he can smoke, but I can tell he's started to notice me being in more of a positive mood if he does question me. "Not at all, le'me move our plant." The plant has become one of us, the third party of the bedroom. I moved the plant into the bathroom and Sherlock perched on the windowsill balancing a straight between his fingers and another between his lips. "Two?" I asked whilst sitting on my bed. "Do you want one?" He passed the one from his lips in my direction. "I shouldn't…" I thought how long it had been since I did something against the rules…that was a long time ago, at a party with Stamford. "Okay, go on then." "I'm not forcing you, John." "No, I know, hand it over." He smiled slightly and I put the cigarette to my lips. "We could try something else if it's easier." He asked, pointing towards the amber lit stick between my thumb and index finger. "What?" I asked. "Well, get closer." He moved up against the windowpane and I squeezed next to him. Sherlock inhaled his cigarette and put his mouth next to mine, whilst opening my mouth Sherlock blew smoke into my mouth and whispered "Inhale." I breathed in through my mouth, feeling the smoke billow into my lungs. I coughed and leaned forward, my face turning red. "It's okay, it's okay." He rubbed my back and took my cigarette from my hands. "Jesus…" I whispered into my knees. "Again?" he asked whilst relighting his cigarette, I nodded in response. I scooted close to him and hung my legs over his thighs. He inhaled his straight and cupped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me closer, he blew the smoke through my lips and I breathed it in, opening my eyes slightly to see Sherlock's staring right into mine longingly. I planted a light kiss on his mouth, and he teased back by returning a kiss even more lightly on my lips. I tugged on his hair and he moaned into my cheek, I felt the cigarette's ash fall onto my thigh and burn my school trousers. It was a collision of skin on skin until the door swung open.

"Oh, Christ." Lestrade stormed in and shut the door behind him as Sherlock and myself entangled our limbs from each other. "What is it, Lestrade?" Sherlock stood up and stormed across the room whilst readjusting his shirt and tie, whilst I refitted my trousers and tried to hide my blushing cheeks. "Sherlock, there's been another one. Another murder."


	19. It's a countdown

Four A.M. I've been up for a good few hours now traipsing behind Sherlock's coat in the damp, cold, and frosty morning that it has been so far.

"The caretaker found the kid's body when returning to his office. The body was slumped on the stairwell leading to the language corridor. It wouldn't have been found until Monday but some pipes froze up in that part of the building." Lestrade was sitting hunched over a steaming coffee in a polystyrene mug, and the corridor was long and poorly lit as officers surrounded us in blue plastic suits. Every now and again there'd be a flash from one of the forensic members' camera.

"When can I see the body?" Sherlock impatiently asked. "Soon, Sherlock." Lestrade yawned. "But please shut up, you're doing my head in." I laughed slightly, my head wedged against Sherlock's shoulder as I sat slumped on the floor. We heard footsteps approach us and Lestrade cocked his head, Sherlock instantly bolted upright.

Mr Strutt stood confused and uneasy above us. "What are you two doing out of bed? More importantly, what are you two doing _here_?" Sherlock went to reply but Lestrade cut in. "Ah, sir, they're with me. They say they have witnessed some…uh, abnormal behavior." The Head turned back to us and we'd put a gap between each other when they were talking. "So what _do_ you know?" He crossed his arms. "I think, more importantly, what do _you _know?" Sherlock stood up and Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Three deaths. Three deaths of promising students at your school and you show no sadness, no guilt because you could've prevented at least one of those deaths. Why have you not closed the school?" "Because education mat-" "Surely safety overrides learning?" Sherlock cut in, The Head started to blush. "Mr Holmes, there is no reason for you to be here now. Get back to your room." He started to raise his voice. "I'm here to give a witness report, Mr Strutt." Sherlock stood closer to The Headteacher. "And to file any odd behavior I have noticed over these rather bleak few months."

A police officer broke the silence and eye staring contest. "Mr Strutt, if you'd like to come with me. You'll need to put forward information on the pupil." Mr Strutt straightened his suit and followed the officer down the corridor.

"Well that was close." Lestrade mumbled whilst crushing his coffee cup. "I'm just gunna' go and see how the forensics team are doing. You boys stay here, and don't get up to any trouble." He walked slowly down the corridor rubbing his face and Sherlock wedged himself back next to me. He poked his finger at my hand until I opened it so he could move it across his shoulder and back. "You okay?" I asked. "Mhm." "Tired?" "Me, tired?" I left a silence. "Okay, I am." I smirked. "Remind me later I need to see Molly." I asked, and Sherlock grumbled.

Around half an hour later Sherlock and fallen to sleep and one of the officers brought us a blanket and me a tea.

"Jo..hn." Sherlock emerged from resting against my thigh, blanket dropping from his face when he sat up. "Hey, Sherlock." "What's the time?" "Five." He groaned. Lestrade then appeared from the bottom of the corridor and walked towards us forcefully. "Okay, boys. You can have your turn now."

Sherlock kept the blanket tight around his shoulders as we walked down the corridor. I shot him a glance as if to say "Why have you still got that?" and he answered with "Cold."

The body was well preserved because of the cold weather. Propped against the staircase, the female looked almost angelic. Her blonde hair hung over her face and neck, revealing red marks across her neck.

"What _are_ these?" Sherlock asked whilst carefully putting on gloves and moving the girl's hair from covering her neck, I crouched next to Sherlock. "Love bites." I answered awkwardly, waiting for the inevitable- "What is a 'love bite'?" I seized. "Later, Sherlock. It's nothing of concern for now." Sherlock carried on examining the body, prodding her skin and looking at the buckles on her shoes. He stood.

"What ever killed her is in her blood. As you can see, John, Her blood has come out in a more prominent colour towards her skin. Look between her fingers." I picked up the girl's delicate hand and looked. "Injection marks…" "Exactly. It was injected. Now look at her shoes." I looked at her shoes. "I don't see…" "Wrong feet! Her shoes are on the wrong feet!" I stood. "Now, look at her hair." I examined her hair and stood back up. "It's damp." "So she's not been here long." He stood. "No…there's something we've missed."

He ran into her corridor. "The girl's name, what is it?" He shouted, some officers turned. "WHAT IS HER NAME?" his voice boomed down the corridor, Lestrade ran to us. "Jesus, Sherlock, calm down." "Lestrade you must tell me now, what is her name." "Uh…" He flicked through his paperwork. "Pippa, Pippa Hiver. Known as Pip to her friends." Sherlock stammered backwards. "There's something else we've missed…"

He ran back to Pippa's body and checked her fingers again. "Look…John, her nails." I looked. "She's had acrylics on her nails." I said whilst monitoring with Sherlock. "Only three are still left on." "Three." Sherlock said slowly. "It's a countdown."


	20. Countdown

A week had passed since the death of Pippa Hiver. This time there was no assembly in association to her death, and Sherlock seemed 1) impressed on how fast he sussed out the countdown and 2) worried because it is an actual countdown, a countdown to what?

After watering our plant, which had become a little dry, Sherlock snapped his book shut and stared up at me.

"John." Sherlock began. "Sherlock." I replied. "You know last week, with Pippa." "Yes, I do faintly recall that incident." I replied sarcastically. "You said the 'love bites' were of no concern then, but I would like to be in formed on what they are. It's not often I'm unaware of something, especially with human anatomy…" His voice trailed off. "You seriously wanna know?" "Yes." "Okay, come here." Sherlock stood up and sat next to me on the windowsill, I moved the plant pot onto the floor.

"Tell me to stop if it feels…not good, okay?" "Okay." I pressed my lips gently against Sherlock's and worked into his mouth slowly. Moving with me, he kissed back and put his hand on my forearm. He surprisingly then bit my lower lip, my eyes flipped open in surprise to see him staring at me. It turns out we're both an experiment on each other. I moved my mouth down along his cheekbone, kissing and then lightly licking, making my way to his ear, and then down his neck. I felt his grasp on me tighten as I kissed and then nipped his skin. My kisses became more insistent as I worked his shirt low enough to access his collarbone and bit lightly. I looked up to Sherlock, his head rolled back and his arms grasped onto my arms. I looked back to his collarbone and put my lips to his skin and sucked. He jumped lightly and then put his hands back on my waist. Locking my lips tighter, I gradually sucked harder as Sherlock seemed more adamant in me carrying on.

After a minute, I kissed gently at his sensitive skin that stretched over his collarbone, the red mark contrasting highly against his pale skin. Pulling back across his shirt to cover my proud creation, I saw Sherlock's face. Eyes bloodshot, mouth wide open. "Are...you okay?" I sat back and looked Sherlock over and noticed that his hands were trembling. "Ye...yes. I am quite alright, John." He smiled lightly. "As much as I enjoyed that, you need to go and see Molly. And I have something to do." I sat back, almost offended. "No, John. It's not like that, I enjoyed that. Honestly." He stood up and put his coat over his shoulders. I'll see you later on." He then went to leave, but half way out the door he turned and walked back over to me. "Thank you." He kissed my cheek and ran back out.

My breath hitched.

Molly and I chatted for hours. We decided to sit outside wrapped up in our scarf's, hat's, and coat's with the mist in the air catching around our breath.

"Spoken to Sally lately?" I asked whilst sipping my coffee. "Yeah, a bit." The silence fell heavy in the air. "These deaths are odd, aren't they?" I nodded, Molly sipped her hot chocolate. "And the school hasn't been closed yet. I heard loads of people have been pulled out by their parents as well!" I acted surprised because I wasn't. I'm growing somewhat pissed off because it seems no teacher cares about these murders. I scrunched up my cup and kicked it with my foot. I couldn't care now about littering. It was the least of the issues at the moment.

"How are you and Sherlock?" Molly nudged my arm and giggled under her breath, I smiled and stood up. The snow was falling gently around us in the dark, the pathways lamps highlighted every tiny snowflake that landed on my duffle coat. "We're good, yeah. We're pretty good." I blew up into the air and the smoke billowed around my mouth as if it was smoke. "Wanna go somewhere nice?" I asked her whilst jumping up and down. "Yeah, okay John."

I walked Molly to the roof where Sherlock took me back and we both stood two feet from the edge and watched over the school. Molly wore her red coat and mittens, her brown brogues dancing slightly in the snow as she jumped to keep warm. "Sherlock brought me here when we first started out. You know that evening playing...I think it was hide and seek?" "Yeh, I do." "Yeah...he walked me here. We watched the stars in each others company and it was perfect. So perfect." I sighed. "You two are, John. I admire you two." She placed a hand on my shoulder and we both carried on looking over the school.

"What's that over there?" Molly pointed to the main road leading into the school, lights flickering through the dense woods. "Oh, my phone just vibrated." She took her hand from my shoulder and reached for her phone from her pocket. "It's from Jim..." I turned around and Molly passed me her phone.

"Tower woods, come and play M x"


End file.
